Wednesday, February 22, 2012

I Lied and Said I Had The Flu...

     Last weekend our two oldest kids had the flu. I spent my days and nights alternating between changing and soothing red, angry, overworked bums and cleaning up pools of weakly vomited applesauce. Pair that with Raegan's demanding cluster feeding and liberal doses of spit up all over various outfits/furniture, and you have the makings for the least glamorous few days possible. Late Sunday afternoon a friend's mom stopped at our house to sell me some stag tickets. I answered the door holding a crimson faced, screaming newborn (actually, she was at that uber pissed off point where she was screeching- but no sounds detectable to human ears were being omitted. All the dogs on our road were howling in our direction though.) Clinging to my right leg was a green tinged Dryden wearing mismatched pjs and one alligator slipper. Trailing behind him was a pj clad Noelle who smelled like...poop? WTF? I changed her diaper 90 seconds before the doorbell rang. I could see Vicky's mom taking in this little vignette so I lamely explained, "the kids are sick." I thought that I was explaining why all three were still in their jammies and acting so miserably. Instead, she exclaimed- dripping with sympathy and understanding, "oh you poor thing! It must be awful caring for them when you're so sick too; you look terrible Hun." Hmm...actually, I'm not sick. After she left, I shuffled into the bathroom (ok, seriously Dryden, get the hell off my leg please, I have a cramp in my calf now) to look in the mirror. My limp, lifeless hair was piled on top of my head in a messy quasi-ponytail. It was mousey brown and shedding at an alarming rate (thank you post pregnancy hormones, on top of being flabby and tired, I'm also balding. Just. Frigging. Awesome.) My face was void of all makeup (makeup? I can't even remember if I had time to brush my teeth) so my natural paleness offset the charcoal semi-circles under my eyes. I was wearing a mint green maternity top (I swear to all things holy that it was the only shirt in the entire house that wasn't barfed on), paint splattered yoga pants and pink Crocs (why do I keep wearing these?!) I had to concede, I did indeed look sick... worse, I looked- let's not sugar coat anything here people- I looked fucking insane. Like a flu suffering escaped mental patient who dressed herself with discarded rags from some roadside donation box.

     Now that our house is healthy, and disinfected, again, I made this week national "Make Mommy Look Less Shitty Week." What does MMLLS week consist of? I got my hair cut and colored (I have had the same hair style since national MMLLS week after Noelle was born four years ago!), got my eyebrows done, had a facial, went crazy with exfoliating and dry brushing, gave myself a mani/pedi, experimented with some at-home teeth whitening, waxed my legs (holysweetjesusthathurts), packed my maternity clothes away, bought new accessories, and delegated some baby feeding turns to my husband to get a few extra hours of sleep. I made the effort to do my hair and makeup every morning, even though the only person to appreciate my primping is Noelley's bus driver and our dog. I feel better. I've also given myself until this weekend to throw those goddamn Crocs out. I feel better. I look better...or at least slightly less insane.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Surely my Opinion Must Weigh at Least a Pound...

     It's been three weeks since I had the tiny bundle of joy that is examining my face intently while making a giant poop in my lap right now. Other than being tired, I've been feeling exceptionally well. I knew that I hadn't put on a whole lot of weight during this pregnancy and I want to continue the momentum of the weight lose pendulum. I joined Weight Watchers last week with a goal and a sense of optimism that I haven't felt for a long time. I am now 10 pounds lighter than before I got pregnant! I left the meeting with all my various papers, charts, lists, and a snazzy new calculator- all designed to get me back into skinny jeans. I tend to meet my goals/deadlines when I have transparent accountability for my actions- or lack thereof. I tried WW after having Noelle four years ago, but I did it online and did not have the same feeling of responsibility when I weighed in and the scale showed similar numbers week after week. This time around, I'm doing the lame meetings (they give you stickers for reaching certain goals. Seriously. Noelle and I can display our sticker collection on the fridge together) and I'm going to have a total stranger weigh me and give me honest numbers from a scale not rigged to weigh five pounds lighter. I'm also going to share my weight here- the actual number I weigh, not just the amount I shed every week. Tomorrow I go in for my weekly weigh-in. I was 172 pounds last Monday. (I feel like I just did a virtual gut-suck right there.) But numbers don't lie. And neither do skinny jeans. Wish me luck, and for the love of God, hide all the chocolate tomorrow. Please.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Just Plain Terrible

     In the last six weeks or so, both Noelle and Dryden have fully embraced the Terrible Two's- something that Nick and I have no experience with. Although Noelle is 4 years old chronologically, developmentally, she is closer to 2 years old. Noelle's terrible two's are slightly less irritating; she is exhibiting frustration and is starting to say "No" to things she doesn't want to eat or do and she wants to be held or snuggled as often as we have the patience for. Dryden's terrible two's are horrible. Actually it'll be a miracle if he survives to see his third birthday because the little S.O.B gleefully stomps on every one of my last nerves. His new thing is yelling commands at me as though I am his personal servant: "No Snack!", "Milk Now!", "Stop!" Another new development is throwing things after he's been scolded. Example: "Dryden, please stop yelling!" He'll then look right in my eyes while throwing his milk/cracker/truck/stuffed dog/TV remote across the room- or worse, right at me. I am also no longer permitted to use the phone, my cell, the remote, the dishwasher, my camera, or the washroom without Dryden freaking out. Needless to say, this all makes for a very long day.

     Today was a big test for me; Nick left this morning for the cottage for the day, leaving me to fend for myself with the kids for the first time since bringing Raegan home from the hospital. All parents will tell you that they love all of their children the same. Not me- I admit that I have a favorite; today I love Saku the most. The dog was the only one who didn't piss me off on this never ending day. Noelle went off to school and I prepared for an easy morning with just the two littlest Pomainvilles. I failed to factor in a few things: Raegan is going through a possible growth spurt and wants to eat every 30 minutes. (Why so often? Because she's a barfer. She upchucks 50% of her meals...usually directly onto my laps. Awesome.) Overnight she went from being a brag-worthy low maintenance baby into a screaming, demanding milk sieve. Dryden has some sort of bug this week, making him miserable. Well, more miserable than usual. We argued the morning away until Noelle returned home and all hell broke loose. Noelle wanted to snuggle, Dryden was loudly freaking out because I had the nerve to take my expensive camera away from him, and Raegan needed to eat. The name of the game became "compromise." I gave Dryden my cell to play with, I hugged Noelle while I waited for the bottle to warm, and then I mastered the one-armed hold and feed. Our compromise was working well until Raegan barfed all over me. "Jesus!" I yelled. "Shit!" yelled Dryden. Saku pretended to sleep on the couch.
     *Sigh*  Is it nap time yet??

     A sizable nap brought no reprieve from the Terrible Two's. Both kids woke up grumpy. Maybe I did too. We all declared a tenative truce and cease-fire, agreeing to stay in separate sections of the house for the remainder of the afternoon. I began to think- nay hope- that maybe, just maybe, I would make it to the end of this day without having a meltdown. I corralled the little ones to the supper table and ladled some home-made beef barley soup into our bowls, and plucked yet another bottle from the bottle warmer and started to feed the baby. So far, so good. A few seconds later Noelle pushed her bowl off the table and onto the floor as she shook her head "no" while Dryden said, "yuck...Kuku have" and dumped his bowl on the floor for the dog. I opened my mouth to yell at them when Raegan barfed a projectile stream of milk at my chest, on the floor, and on the kitchen counter top. There was an eerie silence for five whole seconds (the eye of the storm?) in which the dog smartly got up and hid from my wrath under the table. Both older kids got a swift swat on the arse and were sent to bed early and probably hungry. I changed my shirt and the baby and fed her another bottle. I wasn't happy about it though, and frowned at her the entire time so that she'd note my displeasure. I then had to clean up all the crap from my kitchen floor. As for my supper? It congealed in it's bowl on the table. I scarfed down a Jos Louis cupcake, and opened a bottle of wine instead. It'll get better and easier...right?? I should buy more wine- just in case.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Short and Sweet

     I managed to get all three children to nap at the same time today so I could sneak one in too. How did I do this you ask? Easy...

Step #1: Sell your soul to the Devil
Step #2: Enjoy a nice, uninterrupted midday snooze.