Things to not say to pregnant women.....

I stole this list off of MSN but it's so true. What's funny is that people think they are being so nice when they say some of these things.

So...was it planned? I always want to say, no, but were you? I mean really, if only planned children were born, there'd be so few of us on the planet.

30 weeks? You're still so small! Hahahaha, I've never gotten this one, I get the opposite. Are you almost due? You look ready to pop. Yeah, I'm gonna pop you if you're not careful. Never mention weight in any way to a woman, this is what my husband says. I think it should be a standard rule.

Speaking of pregnancy, did I ever tell you about my sister's 36-hour labor. Oy ve, seriously! These stories scare the crap out no of me right now. The 40 hour labor, the neither regions torn to shit, the breech positions needing to be turned, and my oh so favorite, the overdue baby. In a way, you want to know what you might have to deal with, but mostly these things keep pregnant women up at night. Dude, I've had kids, I know how it can be, but I still shudder every time I hear one of these tales.

Well, maybe next time it'll be a boy. This just bugs me. We're getting, oh it's a boy, you must be thrilled. Well yes, we are, but we'd have been just as thrilled if it was a girl. I've never cared on any of my kids. If I'd had three boys or three girls that would have been just as cool. A baby is a baby, you know?

Felt any kicks yet [said while placing hand on her belly]? Never touch the belly without asking. NEVER!!!!!!! I am hungry and I might just eat your hand.

[Insert name]? Really? Hmm, that's an...interesting choice. This is why we don't tell until the kid is born. We made the mistake with Morgan, telling family and we got so much shit. Oh that's a Hispanic name; oh don't you mean Mia; where did you come up with that? Not nice people, not nice at all. Now if someone is telling you that they are going to name their kid Apple or Moxie Crimefighter, I beg you, please say something. But mostly, it's not your kid, so be nice.

That's a decaf latte, right? Actually bitch it's not. I just heard this in Starbucks. Literally half an hour ago. Like it's any ones business. Today I decided that I can't do decaf anymore. I'm just not sleeping and I needs me some caffeine. So real coffee here I am, I've missed you.

Let me know when you're at week 15. I'm praying this one works out. I can't even go there on this one, but I got it alot in the beginning.

Yeah, babies are cute and all, but just wait until puberty... Um okay, we all know teens can be a pain, hell we all were one at soem point. But ti's not enough of a reaosn to not have kids. Because honestly 3 year olds can be worse.

Anyone have one they'd like to add?

I just don't care

Ever have one of those days where you just don't care to listen to anyone? Or in general to do anything that involves other people at all? Oh it's nothing personal; not to my family or friends or anyone in general. I'm not mad at anyone, nor depressed, I just don't care today. Everyone around here seems to think it's a personal attack on them...but like I said, I don't care. It won't last, I just told my husband this and he understands, or at least he's pretending too. I'm just in a mood.

I don't care that my kids don't want to go to camp tomorrow.
I don't care that my daughter thinks she should be ungrounded now instead of Sunday.
I don't care that my plants are dying.
I don't care that my husband thinks the dog needs to be groomed.
I don't care that my cousin can't seem to find a cheap flower person ten days before her wedding.
I don't care that she left everything until now and now she's freaking out.
I don't care that my house looks like a cyclops hit it; which one did, cyclops Bailey.
I don't honestly care that the cap fell off my tooth today and the dentist can't get me until next week.
I don't care that I have no food in the house and that I'm going to have to order pizza to feed my family tonight.

I just want to sit and watch NCIS or Weeds from Netflix and shut out the world.

I know this sounds bad, trust me I do. I promise I'm not depressed. I'm just tired. This baby plus the heat and not sleeping makes me so freaking tired. So tired that it makes me well....not care about anything. He's sucking the life out of me today and I'm sorry, I'll come back and try again tomorrow. I debated writing this all day, but I need to write what I need to write, for me. That's why I started doing this again, to get it out and not stuff it all in. So...yeah.

I swear the bitch was judging me

I went into the Target superstore this morning to pick up a few items. You know the usual, 2 dozen donuts, three half gallons of chocolate milk and 4 bunches of bananas. I swear to god the woman in the checkout looked at my stomach and then at the food 6 times while ringing me up. She didn't say a word, but she was giving me the stink eye. I can't even imagine what judgmental things were going through her head. Like, lady you might want to step away from the donuts.

I wanted to say, um these are for my kids day camp party today. I swear, I won't be eating a single donut. (Not that looking at them didn't make me drool, but I am here at work, eating my peanut butter toast and drinking OJ, no donuts in sight.) But I don't think she would have believed me. She was about this big (holds up pinkie finger to show the Internets) and she was totally judging me. I wanted to say, you know, one day you'll be the preggo chick. One day, you'll be the one with two kids and a third on the way. One day you'll look like a beached whale. You won't be a 19 year old skinny snob forever, it just doesn't last.

But I didn't, I didn't say anything. I left the store fuming and I went to work.

Sexy is not word I'd use to describe a 33 freaking week pregnant chick, no matter what the baby center emails say. The media however does. They show pictures of Heidi Klum and Angelina Jolie and expect all us pregnant women to live up to that. 99.9% of us don't. You know why? Because we didn't look like Heidi Klum to begin with. So there's no way we'd look like her, just because we're pregnant. Women are asked how they're going to lose the baby weight, before the kid is even born. It's just wrong and I'm sick of it. Whatever happened to doing what is best for your baby? Whatever happened to celebrating women for giving the gift of life? Whatever happened to the understanding that not all women are alike and we don't all need to look like super models?

I guess I can understand what she was thinking. I'm never gonna be like that, I'm never gonna be fat; when I'm pregnant one day, I'm going to watch what I eat and that won't happen to me. A lot of teens believe this. But she didn't have the body of Heidi Klum, so I doubt it will work out the way she thinks it will in her head.

I just wanted to shake her and say, when it's you, you won't want some punk teen judging you. You will one day be the hormonal woman wanting to shake someone just like you. So knock it off! But this isn't acceptable behavior, so instead I explained to my little girls why it bugged me so much. I explained it to them in words they could understand and I did my best to leave behind my attitude and one day I can hope, they won't be judging someone like me.

Because, she was so judging me. And this is the only thing I can do about it; try to educate the next generation. I just hope it will be enough.

AMENDMENT: (Ha, you can totally see what type of profession I am in.) In response to Alissa, I have gotten these kind of comments forever and I feel your pain. I have horrible skin allergies and I can't wear jewelry. I have a wedding ring, which I used to wear around my neck on a chain, but even that gives me insane rashes, which leads to bad exema and asthma issues. Gold, silver, platinum, it doesn't matter, I can't wear it. I've been married for almost 10 years and I get comments made about my girls being...whatever. Although it wasn't as bad in LA as it is here and I can only imagine how much worse it would be in a small town.

Baby countdown: Seven Weeks

Seven more weeks. This pregnancy has been fairly normal, except for my emotional well being. However that's got little to do with the pregnancy and everything to do with well...everything else. Yesterday, as you can tell by the picture overload below, I purchased items for my son, for the very first time. Yes, I am behind, I have been told this by many, many people. My mom was overjoyed when I told her what I was doing yesterday. She's coming for ten days on Saturday and she was prepared to do it for me. To say, I've been worrying my family, is an understatement, but that's the best I can come up with.

I am doing better though. I'm starting to feel better about this baby in general. I feel like I'm close enough to admit that he's going to be fine. Seven weeks isn't really that far off, but it's feeling like a lifetime. I want to meet him, to cuddle him, to see which of us he looks like. To call him something besides, the boy. At some point yesterday, I realized how much I still have left to do and it made me a bit panicked for a bit. Morgan was a month early, so I have to get my butt in gear. Just in case he decides to make his grand appearance early.

The heartburn is killer right now. Boy better have a fro, is what I keep saying. No matter what I eat and sometimes even when I don't, I have heartburn. Funny enough, orange juice, which is supposed to be horrible on heartburn, doesn't bother me at all. It's how I wake him up in the morning, nothing like a little jolt of citrus to make a kid move. I'm fully over the morning sickness, which was horrible and lasted all day, every day for the first six months. Morning sickness, my ass. Can we just rename it? Some crazy, sunshine shoots out of my ass type of person coined that phrase and it needs to change. But the heartburn and the not getting comfortable to sleep much are my worst symptoms right now. The non-sleeping sucks donkey ass, because I know that sleeping right now, would make the not sleeping after a bit more tolerable. In my head at least, because I know I'll complain about it when it happens. I've never been a great sleeper though, so thinking I'd sleep well now anyway, isn't really realistic.

Laughing at the baby center weekly BS which said that at 33 weeks, I should be feeling rather sexy and that sex was fine and lovely at this point. Was this written by a man? I'm not speaking for everyone, but for me....yeah, there's nothing going on in our bedroom right now. Cept for me getting up to pee nine million times. When Logan did say something a few days ago, I reminded him that it's his fault I'm this way and the last time I looked, he still had hands. Which um....wasn't very nice, but I'm not very nice right now. That and the, you should wash everything at this point. Yeah not so much on that one either, since they said for sure that Bailey was a boy. I won't fully believe this baby is a boy until I see his parts. I don't know why I continue to read these updates.

No matter what, whether I don't sleep for the next seven weeks, whether I'm "ready" or not, he's coming soon. Seven weeks to go baby, we're on the home stretch. Now if you could just tell me your dam name.

My kids college fund....

Just thought I'd share where my kids college fund went today. Who needs school when there are teeny boy clothes to buy? When I walked in the house and Logan saw everything, he turned to Morgan and said, "you better learn to say, would you like fries like that." Jerk.

In my own behalf, I will say, it's not over the top, considering how bad it would have been if it was a girl, nor if you look in the girls closets. Girl clothes outnumber boys clothes in stores like 100 to one. (I kept having to walk to the very back of the store to find baby boy clothes.) We are not a minimal clothes type of family. All of these clothes and shoes (I did get blankies, socks and bibs too, but I ran out of room) were on sale. Well almost all of them. Plus, my kid would be dam cold running around nekkid, seeing how it will be getting cold by the time he's born.

So....I'm thinking the girls will still be able to go to college. But the boy, well he's on his own. ;)
These three outfits made my teeth hurt, they were that cute.

See my son's pimp baby shoes? They are fives and they seem huge, so I have no idea when he'll wear them, but my husband shut his mouth when he saw them.


This one is proabley way more right than I know in the moment. In case you can't see it, it says, I'm the Boss around here!

Shopping, my true love

I've always loved to shop. One of the stories my aunt loves to tell about me is the first time she took me shopping with her. I was about two years old and she took me to Nordstroms with her, as she needed to look for a dress to go to a wedding. At some point she lost me, she got busy looking at a dress and looked up and I was gone. She started screaming for me and found security and made them search for me and shut the doors, so no one could leave. After few minutes she found me. I was sitting in the kids shoe section, holding three different shoes, patiently waiting for someone to help me with them. She thought it was the funniest thing, that I knew exactly what I wanted and exactly where it was and I went right too it. Needless to say, she bought me a pair of shoes that day.

My love for shopping is genetic to a degree, but I've taken it to a whole new level. See, I love all kinds of shopping. I love to clothes and shoe shop for me. I love, love, love to baby clothes shop; my kids always have great clothes. But I also enjoy the grocery store and places like Lowes and Costco. I just adore shopping. Funny enough, I don't even mind not buying things. Window shopping does it for me a lot of the time. Because, while I love spending money, I don't have to spend money to enjoy shopping. I am pretty responsible with our finances and I understand the need for moderation. Just don't ask Logan about that.

I love to look at all the pretty things; to try on shoes and clothes; to pick out, in my head, new furnishings and dishes. I can spend hours in a mall and buy nothing more than a few socks for the kids and a pretzel and a Coke.

We don't go overboard on birthdays, one gift and one new outfit and then a party; that's all my kids need. Sometimes it's over what they need. I think next year, we'll scale down the parties. But Christmas, when I can shop for everyone, make me positively giddy. At Christmas, we do go overboard, it's just the time of year when we choose to do so.

Now, with seven weeks to go in this pregnancy, I'm starting to feel like I need to shop. Like I need to buy my boy some clothes and stuffs. We have a crib and a dresser and changing table and not much else. Mostly he has an empty room. So I get to shop. I get to walk around the mall today, with no husband or kids (Bailey loves to shop actually, but Morgan could care less, unless it's clothes for her) asking when we are leaving and shop to my hearts consent. I'm thrilled that today has finally come. I finally get to buy little teeny clothes. I haven't gotten to do that in years. My girls are petite (I still shop in the toddler section), but still, a size 3T is not a newborny size.

I'm armed and dangerous. One hormonal woman with comfy shoes, a baby to buy for and a credit card to burn. Yea me!

One thing though....it's been years since I've had a baby around and going into Babies R' Us gives me convulsions, so what's the one thing you think I NEED to buy? Bouncy chairs, swings, cradle, Bumbo chair (can someone explain this thing to me?) those sling deals? Is a sling better than a carrier deal? See I have no clue. Wipe warmers, is this a need? Sad, but a lot has changed in the last four years since I last bought any of this stuff. What is the one thing, that you couldn't live without? What's the one thing you got and never used? Please help a girl out.

Mothering is hard.....

You guys are about the sweetest people in the world. Truly. Reading your comments and emails yesterday kept me sane. I was under the impression that I'd fall apart yesterday. I didn't. It was definitely not the easiest day in my life, but strangely not the hardest either. I had my husband to talk to, my kids to play with and you. That was enough. I don't feel alone in this. I was shocked at how many people have gone through the same thing. Shocked at the sheer number of people who lost a baby in the second trimester. Someone even told me in an email, that one in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage. One in five people. That number is insane. Can I tell you all honestly something? Last year when I lost my baby, I thought that I was alone; that I'd done something to make it happen. Those thoughts caused me to go off the deep end. I didn't realize how many people I knew who had lost babies, because no one had ever talked about it. My aunt had five of them in between her two kids; this I knew. But she was the only one who I knew about. In the last week, even my grandmother told me about having one in between my first two aunts and how she folded into herself for a while believing it was all her fault.

Why don't we talk about this stuff? Why do we keep it to ourselves and bury it inside? Is it fear? Fear that it's our fault? Fear that people will judge us? Or do we just not want to discuss it?

I don't have the answers....I don't know what I'm trying to say really. But I love each and everyone of you who told me your story yesterday. I needed to hear that, more than anything else. I love each and everyone of you who came by and read my story and didn't comment too.

Kristin, I adore you for sharing on my behalf. For telling people something that you might never have shared, for me. I just want to send you butt loads of wine, but more than that, I want to come and drink wine with you. Although, it's hard to do now that I live no where near you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

Being a mother is hard work. I stole this line from Tori, but truer words have never been spoken. Some days I wonder who thought that I was adult enough to raise these beautiful little girls? Who in the hell thought I was mature enough to watch my heart walk around in the world every day? As mothers we sometimes gloss over the hard parts of parenting these little monsters. We talk about poop, big attitudes and not taking naps and we miss talking about our fears of inadequacy. Our fears that we aren't good enough and we're just creating the need for more therapists. I love some of the posts from the Internets this past week, for just the opposite of this. Because people are being honest on how hard this is and it's about time. The most notable one is HerBadMother's post from last weekend. This my friends is why I missed this space, why I missed blogging. Because a lot of us are able to write in words, what we gloss over in conversations. I love it. I needed it. I missed it.

My girls deserve for me to talk about this stuff. Not because they need to hear it today at six and four years old. For one day, just in case, so they don't feel alone. They deserve the world and my baby boy does too. I just have to figure out how to be that for them.

Off to look at Dragon Boats now, whatever the hell that is. (This is what I get for telling Logan to plan our day.)

ps. Name post on it's way. Am serious about getting over that hurdle. Ideas anyone? We have a long list that we like (or names we each like but the other doesn't)....Beckett, Harrison, Alexander, Cole, Wyatt, James, Jackson, Miles, Milo, Tristan....any ideas would be lovely.

14 weeks

In the grand scheme of life, fourteen weeks isn't really that long. Half a season of a TV show, a season of kiddy soccer, the time it took me to write thank you cards after my wedding. At the end of my life, most of those things won't matter. Most likely, I won't remember them. But last year a certain fourteen weeks changed my life forever. Because last summer, exactly a year ago tomorrow (I write tonight, not knowing if I will get out of bed tomorrow, I have been avoiding thinking all day and I know it's about to come crashing over me), I lost a baby. My baby. I was fourteen weeks pregnant when I miscarried.

It was a perfect pregnancy, in a way that is only talked about in celebrity magazines and by people lying their asses off. Maybe that should have been a clue on what would come. No morning sickness, no fatigue, no grouchiness, not even sore boobs. We'd talked for years about having more kids, (since Bailey was born in fact, as she was a perfect baby) we've always argued between having four or six. Me saying four, him thinking six, which is a subject that I won't even touch. But the timing hadn't been right and we just kept putting it off. Morgan was a difficult child; still is in some ways, but as time has gone by and she's matured, she's gotten easier. It just seemed like a good time to start trying. So last spring we stopped being careful. I know the exact day I got pregnant, my birthday. I know because that's the first time I said, ok, no condom. (I'd stopped taking my pills a month or so before.)

We were beyond thrilled. The kids were ecstatic, our parents were over joyed since we seem to be the only ones who are going to give them grandchildren and they adore being grandparents. All was right in the world.

We moved and things went okay; it was stressful, but no big problems. One day I was on a step stool hanging up pictures and I remember nothing after that, except that I was in the hospital. And she was gone. I'd lost my baby. I know that the baby was a girl, not because some doctor told me, I just knew. Just intuition or what have you.

There is no reason, no trauma, no illness. They don't even know why I passed out. One D&C later and I was sent home. Home with my heart shattered in a million pieces. Home, where the first thing I did was go to the fridge to get water and saw the ultrasound picture on the front. The one the disposal got to eat. I know it's not my fault or Logan's, nor the move to Colorado, but I blamed us both. I hated the world and everyone in it for awhile. Hated the people with babies. Hated the sun for shining and the dog for barking and just about everything. I lost my shit. I big time lost my shit. I'm still putting the pieces back together.

I'm not ready to talk about falling apart. I did it and I did it well, I might add. But I'm just not ready to share any of that here. Not yet....I will need to talk about it one day. But I'm having a hard enough time writing this. The urge to fold down into myself is huge sometimes and I'm still fighting the urge to do so, daily. I've spent all day trying to be funny and in a great mood, but it was all false. A ruse, to try and trick everyone with; mostly myself. But I can't let this day go by without saying something, because I owe it to her. I owe it to me too. Fourteen weeks is not a long time, but for those fourteen weeks, I was in love with her. Piper Isabelle, that was going to be her name. I can't change what happened, but I do know I can't forget. As painful as it still is, I don't want to forget. She was a part of me and I'm not willing to forget.

People said things in trying to be helpful, things that hurt. I don't need to go there yet either. Some days I have trouble forgetting them. Today is one of those days.

Fourteen weeks was a lifetime for her and I. Our lifetime together and I'll always remember her.

Now I'm pregnant again, this time by complete accident. I just wasn't paying attention, missing pills for days on end and yeah....he's due September 15th. I am happy, I am looking forward to this baby, but I am scared shitless. For a long time I was scared that something would happen to him, that I'd lose him too. The other day Logan said that even if born today, the baby would most likely make it. Didn't go over to well and he's just lucky that I have bad aim. He just wants me to be okay, to be as happy as he is. It killed him what happened, but it kills him more to see me not happy. To know that my fear has taken over my joy about our baby.

I tried not to get too attached to this baby. I told myself that I wasn't as attached to this pregnancy as I was the others. I wanted this baby. I WANT this baby, but I've been telling myself that holding him at a distance, will protect me from myself. But it's not true. (It took me reading THIS over at Chicken and Cheese for me to know this for an undeniable fact. Read it, it's so powerful. It can all be gone in an instant and I'm beyond thrilled that her tiny baby is going to be okay. But for me, it made all the sense in the world. I almost feel like reading that has shocked me awake in a sense.) I'm, if it's possible, more attached to this baby than the other pregnancies. Because now I know what can happen, I know what's at stake. He has my whole heart, my tiny boy, I love him more than I knew possible. Because of everything that's happened, I am so looking forward to meet him, to hold him, to tell him that I've always wanted him. Because in reality, I have, I just wasn't as aware of how strong it was until just now. I just need him to be okay, to be healthy, to make it. He has to make it.

I haven't been willing to name him, because of my fear of losing him. Now, I know I have to name him, to prove to myself that I have faith. This will be a hard thing, but I'm going to do it. It's time to start putting him before my fear of losing him.

Fourteen weeks changed who I am and who I'll be for the rest of my life. Fourteen weeks may not be long to some, but for me, it was a lifetime.

She's says I need help: well duh, that's why I pay you lady!

I have a bit of an obsessive personality. I knew that already, but my therapist told me that this morning. I was telling her about blogging again and how much I've missed it and about my new love for Twitter. Because, my lovely friends, I am in love with twitter. I checked it all day yesterday. I've resisted getting updates sent to my phone (at least for right now), just because I'm afraid I may over do it and everyone will un-follow me. I have even sent tweets to some people who don't follow me. I hope I'm not breaking some kind of unwritten Twitter rule or something.

The truth is, I get all into something when it's new. When iTunes first came out, I had to download everything in sight. I was on it all the time. When IM'ing first came out, I was in love with it and I wanted to chat on it all day. Then it was texting on my Crackberry and the wii....oh I love the wii. I'm still addicted to the wii. When I first gave it to Logan for Christmas, we spent hours the first night playing wii bowling and making the fugly-ist mii's possible. The next day I couldn't move my right arm at all.

Now it's Twitter. I'm willing to admit, I'm in love with Twitter. Hi, my name is Issa and I'm addicted to Twitter. What will happen is in a few weeks, I'll still love it, but I'll get over the addiction part. Then I won't feel the need to check it all day.

Or at least that's what I told my therapist. She wasn't all that impressed with my explanation. Truth is, I've always been like this. Do any of you remember when I professed my love for orange chicken from Panda Express? Well I got over it. I love something until I don't and then I just like it. It's a part of who I am. It's a part of me that I'm not overly bothered by in the least. Everyone who knows me, knows that I'm like this. Doesn't seem to be a problem for them. Everyone has their quirks, right?

For my therapist, it's a sign of something greater. But I guess in a way, that's her job to tell me how crazy I am. I tell you this, for this reason alone...if I start to bug you too much on Twitter, just know it's a sign that I super-dup like you. That and I'm freaking bored. But if I get too overbearing, just let me know.

Truly, this was the best therapy session I've ever been too. I spent the whole time explaining my quirks and talking about all of you. Even though she things I'm nuttier than I was before, at least it was fun for me. There was no sobbing involved and that's a great thing in my world. So rock on Twitter!!

The moving story

I’ve been thinking about how to tell you all about what’s been going on in the last oh…18 months? Has it been that long? Dam I can’t even remember. POW, do you remember? I know you said you were leaving right after I did…sad that I may have to look at your archives to know for sure. Anyway, a lot has happened. Some good, some fucking awful. I guess I’ll start today with the move, since that’s what everyone keeps asking me about.

I know for a self professed LA snob, it seemed at one point like I’d never leave California. Trust me, no one was more shocked that me when it happened. We’d been spending all of our vacation time in Colorado for the past few years. Hanging out with family, roller blading, jet skiing, boating, camping (bleh), hiking (puke), biking; this city is great for all of that and much more. Logan’s from here, his family lives here, like his entire family, except for his parents and sister. His parents are planning on “retiring” here in a year or two. I put that in quotes, since I know they won’t actually retire, they’ll just do what they do somewhere here. There’s a lot to do here and we’ve always loved it. Summer sports, winter sports and all of the cousins alone made it a great place to be.

Last year when we were out for Memorial weekend, I guess a few of Logan’s cousins got together with him and asked him to be a partner in his business. It’s something he’s always wanted to do, to have his own business, but he was awhile away (like say ten years) from being able to do that in LA. There’s just a lot more risk involved in LA right now. He told them he’d think about it, that he’d love to, but he doubted I’d move. He also told them, he’d want to bring our best friends and have our friend James work with them too. They agreed. So the guys got together and discussed it, at great length I’ve heard. Not about if they wanted to, but how best to break it to their wives, me and Kate, my best friend. They went with her first, mostly because she’s a push over. Then the three of them came to me.

At first I was adamant that there was no way in hell I’d even think about it. I was pissed that he went behind my back, pissed that he’d gotten Kate and James involved and pissed at the whole thought of it. Then reality started setting in. The reality of our life in LA and how INSANE it was. The reality of the amount of hours I was working, just to afford the lifestyle we had created in LA. The reality of sending my kids to private school, just so I’d feel like they were getting the best education possible. Private school doesn’t come cheap. I had to weight the pros and cons. Cheap vs. expensive. Public vs. private. Clean air vs. orange skies. The list went on and on and on. What sold me was the thought that I could spend more time with the kids, that we’d have more family time; that the baby that I was carrying (story for another day) could be born in a place that was relaxed. That I wouldn’t need to put it in day care at 8 weeks. That my girls could ride their bikes outside.

I was sold, we were moving. I told Logan, well let’s put the house on the market and see if it sells. We had a contract on it in 48 hours, which was great because I didn’t have to try and keep it clean for months on in. Unfortunately, they wanted it in 6 weeks and they’d pay extra for that. We found an apartment to live in temporarily out here and we packed our shit and moved.

It’s been a huge adjustment, I won’t lie to you. Some days (often) I’d kill to sit on the beach and watch the waves crash. I miss the friends we left behind. I miss my family that’s out there and dam it they don’t all just want to pack up and move out here too. I miss LA: the food, the weather, the life that I lived. But I’m getting used to this lifestyle too. There’s enough city out here that I feel okay. There’s clean air and “traffic” to the people out here is laughable. Sorry, but you don’t know traffic, until you’ve been on the 405 in rush hour, which is to say, all the dam time. Hell, there are songs written about the traffic on the 405.

The end of summer was rough, for reasons I’ll get in to later. Fall was a bit better; I loved the weather and the easiness of life. I love that my kids can be outside and that they have friends in the neighborhood. Winter was well….snowy. Did you know it snows often in winter? Maybe if I’d been writing, one of you could have warned me about that. I love me some snow; you know, when I want to ski or snowboard, not all the dang time. But I’ll get used to it one of these years, I’m sure.

So we’re here and we’re here to stay. It’s worth it, for Logan’s business, for my kids; for our finances. Me, I’m still a bit lost here. I haven’t found my groove. The company I worked for in LA shut down the Denver office, about a month before we moved. I’m working part-time doing bookkeeping for a guy, but it’s not something I plan on doing long term. I’ve written (well half written) a parenting book, that I’m trying to get an agent for, but no luck so far. So I’m just here, waiting to see what to do next. All I know is that, I needed to blog again. To write again, even in these last few days has made me feel so much better. It’s nice to put my thoughts somewhere, as they take up a ton of space in my head all the time. I’ve missed this, I really have.

Twitter???

I just joined Twitter, because it seemed like the cool thing to do. And I'm nothing if not cool. Hahahaha. But um can any of you tell me to use it? User name is Issascrazyworld if you want to....well I don't know, search for me or whatever.

Help...

That can’t be the best you’ve got……..

Morgan’s been home for three days now. Three very interesting, fun filled (I use the term fun, very lightly) days. She vacillates between being so helpful that I just want to kiss her all day and an absolute nightmare. The lovely side, is very, very lovely. Mommy, can I help you? Mommy, can I fold those clothes for you? (Yes and blessings upon you child.) Mommy do you need anything? Like maybe some more iced tea? Truly that side of her has been awesome. That and the hugs, man I missed the girl’s hugs.

Then the other side of her happens. The bossy, demanding, I am the queen of the world attitude. This, well honestly, I can handle this, as we normally see it in smaller doses. It’s a bit larger than life, this side of her, in the moment. But that comes from spending three weeks being pampered by my parents, aunties and uncles and general spoiling. But it’s the hitting that has me wanting to kill her. She can’t seem to not fight with her sister. See, Morgan’s bossy….shocker I know. Bailey normally isn’t, but as she’s gotten older, she’s getting more independent and not willing to bend to her sisters demanding ways. This causes loads of problems, my friends. Personally, I’d let them deal with it, except I have this problem right now and it’s basically that I can’t handle the screaming. It’s hot and I’m huge and a LARGE grouch and I just can not deal with the screaming. Or for that matter, the noisy bickering and the CONSTANT tattling. She looked at me; she touched my Littlest Pet Shop death trap; she let her bike feel up my bike….it’s all gotten a bit old and frankly I just don’t care. I don’t feel bad for either of them and I told them both so.

Then the hitting started. Morgan’s hitting her sister and then trying to hold her in the room so she won’t tell me, which is funny because she doesn’t get that the ear piercing screaming would eventually tip me off or something.

The best however, is the excuses given for the hitting. Yesterday they were normal, Bailey looked at me and then wouldn’t do what I wanted her to do. She pushed me out of the way….why yes I was holding her in the room, but that’s not important. And so on and so on.

Today they’ve gotten down right funny.

Mom, I didn’t mean to hit her; she got in the way when I was reaching for my toothbrush.

I didn’t smack her on her back, I was giving her a high five and she turned around.

And the all time winner, this one being the one that made me finally separate them for the next two hours at least: Mommy, I was talking to Bailey and telling her what to do and she wasn’t listening to me and I had to talk faster and I bit the inside of my mouth and it hurt and then I hit her, cause it was her fault.

Uh huh, sounds plausible to me. Somehow, I just don’t feel sorry for the child. I’m thinking it’s a bad sign that I’m counting down the days until school starts. Twenty-two and a half days for those of you who care to know.

Dam it to hell, I can't even drink.

Why is it...

That after two and a half hours at Chuck E Cheese, I wish I'd never had children? I swear I'll take that back after they both nap. Well maybe. But seriously, when we left with the two screaming brats and they stopped me at the door to make sure I wasn't trying to kidnap the little screamers, I wanted to say, oh shit man, these ones aren't mine. I must have gotten them mixed up; please, please keep them. That nice sweet little thing over there, the one I just gave all of my kids prize tickets to, that one's mine. Really mister, she is.

Instead I took them home, put them to bed and am eating a second piece of cake. But dam that Chuck E, dam him to hell and that stupid ticket nightmare crap of a place.

$45 dollar cake from Cold Stone: Priceless

Mommy I need you

These were the words that I heard at 4pm today. My kid, sobbing into the phone, needing me. Talk about hard, hell this was harder than giving birth to her. Gah, it made me so freaking upset. See, she's in Texas with my parents, who are taking care of my grandparents. Not so easy to go and get her "right now" like she wanted. Because there is no right now when a kid is 650 miles away. Nothing had really happened to make her so upset. I mean she has been there with them, swimming every day, doing time tests (don't ask) and being completely doted on, for three and a half weeks. She's called me every night and told me about her adventures that day. She's been homesick a few times, but not too bad. Heck, her favorite people in this world are my mom and step-dad. She wanted to come home tonight though, not next week, not in three days, NOW. Every part of my being wanted to teleport to get her. Unfortunately, I don't have one of those dam teleportation things. They were fresh out of them at Costco last week.

We thought maybe she'd calm down if we gave her some time. I mean shit, any weekend but this one. Bailey's birthday was (is) today, her party is at 2pm tomorrow and Sunday we're going to a freaking wedding. But she didn't calm down. My mom called a bit later and said, she needs to go home so we need to figure out how to do that, she needs you. I completely fell apart, I just can't handle anything these days and that sent me over the edge.

When I calmed down, Logan said, well I'll just leave and go get her. Two of the greatest men who've ever walked on this planet are in my family. I'm that lucky to have them both. Logan left at around six to drive to get Morgan. My step-dad got in the car at the same time, my baby girl and all her crap packed in the car, and started driving to us. After Logan left, I called my mom and told her what he was doing and she told me what dad was doing. Needless to say, they were both happy to hear that they'd only need to drive halfway and back tonight.

Morgan is thrilled. Beyond thrilled. She cried when she left my mom and told her how much she'd miss her and she can't wait to see her in a few weeks, when they come out here. She just missed me more. It tore at my heart to hear that, as we'd been having some issues before she left. But honestly, next week seemed like a long time to me too. I'm glad she needed me enough to come home early. She missed me more.

Now, since Bailey's party is tomorrow and we got her a bike, someone had to put it together tonight, to surprise her in the morning. We should have done it for her this morning, but she was convinced her birthday was tomorrow, because that's when her party is, so we waited. You can't talk reason to a stubborn four year old. Especially not one who is related to me. Then of course my husband rushed off to play prince charming to our kid. Someday, she'll love a boy and he'll become her world, but for now, it's still her daddy. He's still her knight in shining armor.

So picture if you will, me putting together this bike. It was a funny site I'm sure. All big and pregnant, swearing underneath my breath, wondering why we didn't buy her a bunch of books or some fluffy socks. But I did it, I assembled my very first bike, all by my own self. Shit man, wasn't that why I got married, to not have to do these things? I'm sure it was in the vows: love, honor, cherish, assemble, followed by picking up dog poop and evicting raccoons from the living room. As an aside, remind me to tell you that story one day, it's a hoot.

Anyway, my first baby is sleeping in her gran-dad's car content in knowing that she is coming home tonight. My second baby is upstairs, not knowing that I just celebrated her actual forth birthday (she was born at 11:37pm) by putting together her present. And the third, well...he has just lodged his foot in my ribcage. But hey, a boys got to make his presence known, right? It's been a hell of a day in Issas Crazy World, so I'm off to bed.

What do you think, did I do good?
ps. Hey Steph (Pickle), I am so happy to hear from you, I tried your site and it said it was protected. But when you commented, it didn't send me your email. When you get the chance, I'd love to catch up, so email me, okay? Mine is issascrazy world at gmail dot com. :)

pps. I am so glad that you all remember me. I had this fear that everyone would be like, Issa who? God, I missed you guys.

ppps. My best friends and I used to sit in seventh grade English class and pass notes back and forth to each other. The deal was, whoever has written the most pppppps's when the bell rung, won. Not sure what we won, possibly D's in English class, but it was freaking funny. When we moved, I found some of them. I put them in a scrapbook, because they were so dang cool.

Four

Today my lovely baby girl, you are four years old. Despite the fact that you are telling everyone that you are five, you are only four. Please don't try and speed it up, I'm not ready for that. In fact, if you wanted to stay three for a while, I wouldn't argue with you. It seems like just yesterday that I brought home the teeniest sweetest newborny. You were one of the easiest babies in the whole world. Which honestly, after your sister, was kind of a relief. Over the years you've remained a mostly easy, if not a bit stubborn, child. No clue where you get that from, none at all.

My love, this last year has been hard on you and lately we've seen how some of it is starting to affect you. You've regressed a bit lately, having accidents, being more emotional at silly things and having tantrums. Your dad gets a bit pissed when you do this, but I've told him to knock it off. Because truly, it's our fault. We can't be mad at you for something that we created. We're working on it though and I know it'll get easier for you. I promise, I'll make it easier for you to be you.

This year has seen some major changes in our life. This time last year, we moved out of LA. Your daddy got the job opportunity of his life, the chance to partner with some of his family and co-own a business and we decided to take it, even though it put us in the unknown. I never thought I'd leave LA, but it's kind of been nice. There's this crazy thing here, it's called peacefulness. You've grown kind of used to it. You and your sister miss the beach for sure, but you've gotten to kind of enjoy riding your bike outside, playing in the neighborhood with friends, even skiing last winter. Heck, in the five years we lived in our old house, we only knew two of the neighbors names; here we know them all. The new neighborhood we just moved into, even has neighborhood events. Things like block parties, parades and Christmas light challenges. Your daddy's looking forward to that last one. You got used to the move and the new way of life, way faster than your daddy and I did. Me, especially. I told you last night that this new house, the one we moved into last month is our forever home. You looked at me for a minute and then said, "ok, mommy, but you can't tell daddy that you want to go home anymore. This is our home now." You made me cry, although thankfully, I was able to wait until I left the room. I didn't realize you'd heard me say...ok scream that at your dad late at night, way too many times to mention. You say the most profound things sometimes and it shows me how you're growing up way too fast. I made a promise to you and I'll keep it, from here on out, this is the only home I'll say I want to be at. That's my real birthday promise to you.


Last month or the month before last you told your daddy not to be afraid of falling (he was about to attempt some stupid stunt on a skate ramp), you said that falling only hurts for a minute or two, but being afraid hurts much longer. These are the things that I want to remember about you, the insights and amazing things that you say. Yes, you're taking swim lessons right now and last week you did a real cartwheel and these are important events to remember as well, but the real important things for me are the small things that make you, you. The amazing little girl that I thank the world for every day.

In eight-ish weeks you are going to be a big sister. I know you're excited, but I also know that's the reason for some of the regression. Four years is a long time to be the baby...this I know to be true. We didn't intend to wait this long, but that's just the way life ended up. You love to tell people that you're going to be a big sister, then you show them how you'll hold and rock him. I know you'll be a great big sister. You also love to tell random people his name, which is kind of funny since you change it to suit your mood in the moment. Even funnier, is the fact that they honestly believe that I'd name your brother, Homer or Stewie, sometimes even Petra. Not sure that I like any of those names, but seeing how we don't have one for him yet, your guess is as good as mine.

You've been an only child for the past three weeks, as your sister went to hang out with Gran for a while. It was a good vacation for her and for you. You've gotten on each others nerves this summer, which means you're on my nerves and honestly my nerves can't handle it right now. Sending Morgan to Gran was one of the hardest things I've done in a while, but it seems to have been a good thing. We had to take you out of daycare two weeks ago, for reasons that had to do with another class and just having you here and not both of you has been good. If you'd both been here, mad at me for the past two weeks, I'd have sold you on eBay by now. I know you're still mad and that's okay, but we've had some serious fun. Plus, sissy will be back next Friday and then you'll go to real preschool three weeks after that.

You're daddy just called me to say that you told the checker at the store that you were six today. I'm telling you kid, you are four years old all year, no matter what you tell people. But it is freaking funny. It's like you're trying on different ages to see how they sound.

Even though you've gotten so big, you're still my baby girl. You always will be. I love that you love My Little Ponies and Littlest Pet Shops, as well as Transformers and Batman. I love that you demand to do things your way, but you still love to cuddle and let me tell you that you are my tiny newborn. I promise to still tell you that for years to come, even after your brother makes his way into this world. Because, my little chick pea, even though you are big and old, you are still and will always be, my tiny newborny.



Happy birthday Bay,
Love Mama

I can't believe I'm really doing this

I quit blogging over a year ago. My old blog was on Typepad and it was called Issas World. I'm the mother of two amazingly irritating little joys of my life, Morgan (age 6) and Bailey (age 4). I'm married to my high school sweetheart, Logan. Maybe you remember me and maybe you don't. It's okay either way. I'm not sure I can tell you why I stopped blogging in the first place. Maybe when I figure that out, I'll be able to tell you what made me want to start again.

Yesterday I got a wild hair up my ass and started searching out old blog buddies. Some I found and some I wasn't able to find. Maybe some of my old pals quit blogging too. As I looked at your sites and read your archives, I realized one thing, I miss this. I miss blogging, I miss telling you all about my life and my kids. Mostly I miss all of you.

My life has changed a lot in the last year. Most of it good, but some not so much. I'll get into that eventually. You'll notice that my site name has changed from Issas World to Issas Crazy World. This, my friends, is for two reasons. First, because Issas World is taken, by a knitter I believe and second, because I'm crazy. What can I say, it's completely true these days.

Welcome to my world.
-Issa