The real reason I am still wearing my maternity clothes: It is true, I can button my pre-pregnancy pants and my shirts can make it over the barrel that I call my stomach. However, as a friend once called it, maternity clothes are outside pajamas. They are roomy, when you don’t have a large belly containing a baby pulling at the stitches, and oh so comfortable. The extra fabric makes me more comfortable about nursing in public. I know there are nursing tops, but you need to have an engineering degree to work them while holding a squirming, screaming baby. Also, I am either going through early menopause or my hormones are still partying it up in this bitch because I am constantly hot and most nursing tops are layers that can’t be removed. I know one day I will have to toss aside my large, roomy clothes for the confines of my regular clothes, but, as I keep telling myself in order to feel better about the lack of weight loss, it has only been 3.5 months. You can smack me when I say, “It has only been 18 years.”
The bathroom is the heart of this house: I am hearing all the time that the kitchen is the heart of the house; it is where everyone gathers to talk and share a good time. In this family, the bathroom has been the place to meet and mingle. I am not sure who made this decision, but I would like to point out on the Internet right this minute, it wasn’t me. We have 3 bathrooms in the house and one in the office out back. Logic would dictate that if someone is in one of the bathroom that maybe the right thing to do is to go to one of the other rooms with a toilet. Do I have to remind you that logic and children do not mix? The exact opposite happens, if you are using a bathroom that is the one that is sought out. It never fails if I am taking a shower, getting dressed, brushing my teeth or any of the other things that go on in the bathroom little people, and sometimes a larger, hairy person, magically appear. Amber has to use our toilet at 5 in the morning, because…hell, I don’t know. Sam has to brush his teeth while I am standing there buck nekkid doing my morning routine, even though there is a perfectly vacant bathroom down the hall. And don’t think it happens just because it is the master bathroom, which is not all that, major questions must be answered while I am showering in the hall bathroom. See. Master bathroom not all that. We all have to shower or bathe in the hall bathroom, because someone the size of a noodle designed our master bathroom shower. I keep hearing that as kids get older they crave privacy, can someone give me a time line on that, because it is getting crowded and uncomfortable in here.
Evangeline really does fall asleep with a burp cloth on her head: And since she is unable to get it exactly the way she wants it, I will help her out and put it on her head for her. What are moms for? We get strange looks all the time and I am sure someone is going to accuse me of trying to smother my baby. I assure you it really does put her to sleep and she can breathe. NO, we do not cover her entire face at night, but that would only be a concern if she was sleeping by herself, which she isn’t and OHMYGOD would she please start sleeping in her crib.
Photographic proof.
Calm, but not asleep. Get the picture?
(That is how she rolls in the shopping cart. I guess the blue camo
is why I get so many “HE” is sooo cute.)
Then your older sister will take it a step further and give you the hat
that all the old people will claim your mother should have on your head, anyway,
in such nippy weather. Which leads me to my next keeping it real item:
My kids don’t wear hats. I have fought the good fight and, now, have given up.
The older 2 are still alive so I am guessing it is not that important.
I have no shame when disciplining my kids in public: Sure I put up a good front when it was just Amber. There was no yelling and everything was discussed at length. Come to think of it that is how we did it at home, too. Interesting. Then I had another kid, time got short and patience got even shorter. At this point, you are lucky I am not screaming with the pedal to the floor near the nearest cliff, which in Louisiana is far, far away. Lucky me. Today, I warned my son that he would get a hide tanning if he didn’t stop climbing all over his sister. Next, I took away Amber’s gymnastics class, because she decided it would be a good idea to rolling around on the floor of Toys R Us. Who does that? Yesterday, I grabbed Sam and fought every fiber of my being not to beat him in the bank parking lot when he decided that being mad at me was worth getting hit by a car. He pulled away from me and came inches from hitting the car door of a car that was moving through the parking lot. Luckily, my reflexes have become cat-like and the man was driving slowly. All this happen without me dropping the carseat containing Evie. I’ve got mad mom skillz, YO!
I am typing this while Evie screams in the background and I have told Amber to wait for her dinner*: This isn’t the first nor last time I will demand that my kids wait. Frankly, Evie is often left crying in her swing at this time, because the other 2 seem to wait food at the same time every night. It is hard and I would think not safe to hold a small baby while working with hot liquids or near hot surfaces, so really it is for her safety. I have no excuse for the blogging, except that I never have time and I would hate to lose another idea, no matter how great or not great it might be.
The swing is more than our friend, it has taken the place of my arms and a rocking chair: When it was just Amber I had all the time in the world to develop bedtime routines, work on perfecting them and patiently rocking her to sleep. Repeat as often as needed. All that fell apart once Sam came along. There were activities we had to be at, another child to bathe and feed, and on and on. These days I barely have time to pee or eat, which would explain why I eat most of my calories at night. I am thinking that doesn’t help with weight loss. I have started holding Evie on the sofa while I watch TV or surf the Internet. She eventually falls asleep, but I fear at this rate she is lucky to get a bath most weeks and all hopes of a bedtime routine are lost. I am hoping that it will just fall into place, kind of like it did with Sam. Then I remember those days and cry silently, you know so I don’t wake the baby.
Everyday I think of weaning Evie: Mainly for the weight loss. Weird, I know, it goes against everything you ever heard about breastfeeding. Well, stop reading those books, because they don’t know shit. Okay, I am a bit bitter. However, the 13 extra lbs I am carrying doesn’t compare to the being able to stay asleep while feeding the baby or the spacious interior of my diaper bag. Nuff said.
*I am not completely heartless, I did stop what I was doing and proofread after the kids had dinner and the baby was sleeping.
