The Year Was 2014....

And the year went undocumented. Ha! What an insane year it was. I blogged 5 times between January 15 and February 21 and then said, "Screw it. Life is hard right now" and stopped.

Raising a three-year-old is hand work! At two, they have tantrums, they scream and cry, but then they recover oddly fast. But as a three-year-old, they think "if I just keep doing this longer. If I add in all these new words I'm learning. And, on top of that, if I start to reason, but in a way that confuses the parent, the parent will have no option but to give in to my demands." The three-year-old also begins to understand the term "in charge" to mean whoever is making the demands. So, if he is stating he wants to watch TV, then he is in charge and should watch tv. And if you, by chance, try to say no, then he will proceed to scream and cry and argue for as long as you will hold out.

 This, unfortunately, is where my three-year-old failed. He is only just now realizing (at just four-years-old) that I have amazing willpower and I like to be in charge. Always have. So these performances are lost on me. And while listening to crying and screaming    a-l-l    d-a-y    l-o-n-g    have slowly made me want to admit myself into the nearest psych ward, I stand firm and tall in my decisions... until my husband comes home. And then I run as far away as possible grasping for solitude.

I actually had a conversation with a friend of mine that I think kids are making me an introvert. Like I got overwhelmed the other day at an event introvert. Like I will sit in my car for 30 minutes and stare into the wall of my garage just to be alone introvert. I am now one step away from wearing a black trench coat and caring a weird duffel bag.

On top of being screamed at all day, my one year old had her own issues. She is demanding, hungry 24/7, and has a personality that is loud. She wants to be held all the time and dreams of dreaming in our bed for all naps and nighttime sleep. She also has been sick for approximately 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, and 10 minutes. Seriously, I love this girl so much and we have a crazy bond that cracks me up, but she also drives me nuts with her demanding ways. It makes it impossible to discipline well, impossible to teach, and with the lack of sleep going on over here, impossible to function.

One day, it dawned on her that she could take off her clothes. So we now go without clothes.... and I'm kinda nutty about my kids wearing clothes. I just think it needs to be done. So it's 50 degrees outside, she's eating ice cream cake, she's shivering from being so cold, and she's naked. Does she want to put on clothes?? No, she does not. Reason doesn't seem to play a role in her little mind.

So on top of the kids, I joined a friend in a great small business venture called Greener Grass. It is a great business. Melissa is so talented in teaching and creating beautiful things. She teaches sewing classes, craft events, makes amazing products, and I handle the business side. We worked our butts off this year and are so broke it's sad. Welcome to Small Business America! It's totally worth it and, hopefully, soon we'll start seeing a profit. We are just so fortunate to have the support of so many great people. It makes each day exiting!! Seriously. It's such a neat thing to hear praise about something you put your heart and soul into. It's a high for real.

This year, I also began writing grants for a non-profit. I miss the non-profit world and was so grateful for an opportunity to reenter on my timetable. But, man, has it been hard. Balancing deadlines with littles who have no concept took great practice in patience and the support of an amazing husband.

Speaking of the husband, Jeremy struggled through this year right with me. We grew a lot. We had to learn to communicate better,  handle each other's stresses, and laugh as much as possible.

Over the summer my car was having some issues that were disturbing me greatly. My car is not old at all and has a ridiculously low number of miles on it. Issues should not be happening with my car. Jeremy decided at this point that he was going to learn all about my car and how to fix these things himself. So he did research and decided the issue had to be X. So late one night, he went outside, to fix X on my car. After about two hours, I got a little worried. By that time, it was dark and from how he explained it to me, the issue was a quick fix. So I casually went outside to see the entire insides of my car on our lawn. I, then, asked, "So was the problem with X??" To which he replied, "Oh... so that was what I was supposed to be checking!" No lie. I couldn't make that up. He had been out there for two hours taking apart my car trying to remember what he was supposed to be fixing. I laughed for days about that. Heck, I still chuckle thinking about it. Obviously, we are sleep deprived and enjoy not being around others at this point in our life. Life with toddlers.....

It's funny looking back at the year. It was so hard, but we made it. The year is over and it ended fast. I quite often tell my friends who are just starting to have kids "your days are going to be so long, but your weeks are going to fly by." It's just so true.

In my first post of the year, I quoted the following from Streams in the Desert:

Through poverty, through wealth, through sickness, through health; at home, abroad, on the land, on the sea; in honor, in dishonor, in perplexity, in joy, in trial, in triumph, in prayer, in temptation—“hitherto hath the Lord helped!”

But the word also points forward. For when a man gets up to a certain mark, and writes “hitherto,” he is not yet at the end; there are still distances to be traversed. More trials, more joys; more temptations, more triumphs; more prayers, more answers; more toils, more strength; more fights, more victories; and then come sickness, old age, disease, death. Is it over now? No! there is more yet—awakening in Jesus’ likeness, thrones, harps, songs, psalms, white raiment the face of Jesus, the society of saints, the glory of God, the fullness of eternity, the infinity of bliss. Oh, be of good courage, believer, and with grateful confidence raise thy “Ebenezer,” for,“He who hath helped thee hitherto Will help thee all thy journey through.” -C. H. Spurgeon

How appropriate was this? If you follow me on Instagram, you know that 10 weeks ago, Jeremy and I lost a baby to an ectopic pregnancy; it was our second pregnancy loss in two years and just really hard. Moments since then have been equally hard. I have cried randomly and needed more time alone to think. But, oh, am I grateful. I am grateful because we have hope in Christ that these moments of suffering do not compare to the moments that await us in heaven.

"No more let sins and sorrows grow
Nor thorns infest the ground
He comes to make
His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found
Far as the curse is found
Far as, far as the curse is found"
- Joy to the World

As you begin celebrating Christmas with your family, may you remember that the story didn't end with Jesus being born in a manger and it didn't end with him dying for us. The ending is still to come.

Merry Christmas!

Tantrums of a Pregnant Woman

Unfortunately, the tantrums of an almost two year old and those of a say 8 month pregnant woman are very similar.

An almost two year old usually has tantrums because they are hungry, tired, emotional, or wanting to get their way. An eight month pregnant woman's rationality is about the same. If she is hungry, she wants food 5 minutes ago. If she is tired, she is just plain grumpy and all surrounding parties should seek cover immediately. If she is emotional, one should simply leave her the entire house and only return when she seeks out one's company. And if she wants her way, my goodness, you just better let her have it.

I have also noticed that when my almost two year old is having a moment, the entire house joins in that moment and all the happiness from the room is sucked out. This effect also happens when an eight month pregnant woman decides to show out. The problem with the latter, though, is that usually the almost two year old will join the eight month pregnant woman and the poor husband/father who is standing nearby can do nothing, but watch and wait for when his wife and son return to him normal and happy. This could take a minute or as long as 30 minutes depending on what caused the fit to begin with.

For example, let's say that the wife wakes up hungry. It's Saturday which means the husband usually enjoys making pancakes for his little, growing family. However, he must first retrieve his son who will only be gotten by him. (What love his son has for him?!) Once the son joins the mother in the bed, the wife looks at the husband and asks, "What's for breakfast? Pancakes or do you want to go get something?" The husband, who is still very tired, cannot seem to make a decision and joins them in the bed. The wife is still hungry. "Honey, I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?" "I don't know. What do you want?" "Food." "What kind?" "I just told you. Pancakes or you can go get something." "What do you prefer?" "FOOD!" It is at this moment that the son decides he should join in, "Dada, eat. eat. eat." This is the moment of truth for all involved in the making of a tantrum. The only sane one in the room (obviously, the husband) must make a final decision in one second flat. If he fails to do so, he will face a double tantrum. This will feel much like walking into a room of six babies where four of them are crying as loudly as possible. It is not fun. Thankfully, after 8 months of these 'close calls' and failing at stopping them quickly enough my husband has learned. We had pancakes. He even added chocolate chips to really sugar us up.

One should also note that just like with an almost two year old, one must anticipate a tantrum around every corner. One must be prepared in all circumstances and have a plan of action. If the eight month pregnant woman, slows her walk, get her home and rub her feet immediately! If she mentions food, hand her a snicker bar before she turns into a Diva. If she starts to cry randomly, go in for a hug, but immediately run the other way if she pulls away. And if she wants her way, figure out the best case scenario and go with it.

A husband should also never, ever try to relate. No matter how many aches you may feel or how hungry you might be or how tired you are from not getting good sleep the night before. I can guarantee you that your eight month pregnant wife has you beat and that trying to relate will immediately lead to a tantrum like none other.

Truth be told, you cannot possibly know what it is like to be hungry all the time and yet not physically be able to store that food in your body. Or what it is like to try to pick up a toy off the ground and then get stuck and have to roll your body around and then with a little more jiggling and about 10 minutes later stand up. Or what it is like to want to sleep 24/7, but not be able to because your body has already decided that your new baby will want to eat between the hours of 1:30 am and 3 am and you must prepare now. Or what is is like to not be able to get comfortable in any position or when you finally do get comfortable immediately have a child squish into you or a dog sit on your lap or a husband who wants to spoon you on a couch that clearly because of your belly you are already taking up all the available room on the said couch. Or what it is like to feel like an almost two year old stuck in an eight month pregnant body with no control at all over anything that happens if you suddenly become hungry, tired, emotional, or wanting something specific.

Thankfully, for both the almost two year old and the eight month pregnant woman, these tantrums will end.  The almost two year old will mature and grow out of them and the eight month pregnant woman will have her baby and be returned to normal about 3 months later.

So dear husband, cheer up. One day, you will have a normal family.

I'm done.

True Story. 

I'm currently 21 weeks and still throwing up 3 times each day. I thought I was better, the doctor got a bright idea, and now I am worse. My uterus is yelling at me. I'm yelling at the unborn within me. And, honestly, I'm just plain over being pregnant. Having one bad day knocks me on my butt for at least two days and I just can't be knocked down anymore. I've got things to do! And so I rant to you, Internet Friends, as I enter the longest part of my pregnancy feeling miserable and just wanting to be done so that I can wake up and fix my son breakfast without having to say "I'm sorry, but Mommy has to run to the bathroom one more time." It's annoying and old. Thus, my uterus has declared she's retiring for good in the form of a very nice letter. I appreciate her and her willingness to carry two children, but I couldn't agree more. She needs to retire.

---------

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,

This is my formal notification that I am retiring from my post as Child Developer effective January 2013. It has been a pleasure and an honor aiding in the protection of your two little ones while they grow within Mrs. Johnson's womb. However, the recent discovery that I am currently holding a GIRL has made my need to stay around any longer unnecessary. I hope you both will understand my need to move on. If you are still in doubt, I have made a list of things that make a family of four the perfect number:

1. Two words: Game nights.
2. You aren't out numbered.
3. Tag teaming parenting
4. The baby stage will end sooner for you than those who multiply more which means you'll be sleeping and able to remember what you did yesterday before they will. You will then be able to rub it in. 
5. Disney World has family packages for families of 4.

See? A family of four is a great thing.

I really appreciate the opportunities I have been given here, and I am happy for your growing family and pray that the Lord bless you. And just know that until January 2013, I will continue to help protect Madelyn Bree.

Sincerely,
Jessica's uterus

-----

And, thus, we end the baby making era. Sorry Grandparents, but you'll just have to wait for another kid to step up to the plate. This throwing up for nine months straight is for the birds.

Making a guess: Boy or Girl??

In one week, we find out if we are having a little boy or a little girl! I am so excited. I'm hoping that knowing the gender will somehow ignite a need within me to nest... or at least vacuum. Although, I think Jeremy would settle with me just simply picking up B's toys. We kinda all tripped over his Legos last night. Thankfully, we were also too tired to complain or point blame. I have a feeling I would have lost that one.

Anywho.

Jeremy and I decided that we are going to take Bradley with us to this appointment and in preparation I've been showing him his ultrasound pictures. He points and says, "Baby!" He loves babies. He also may think that there is a baby in his own belly. We are going with it at this point.

And while I am super excited to know for sure what we will be having, I am also 95% sure that it is a girl. You know, the "mother's intuition" and all. Ha!

Here's why:

1. She hates me more than Bradley ever did. See here. 
2. She doesn't seem to like to eat. I'm guessing she already has image issues and is trying to watch her weight. No need coming into this world 10 lbs, right?
3. The Chinese calendar shouts PINK!
4. I've been eating lemons like they are about to go extinct.
5. I'm loving all things sour.
6. Her heartbeat is slower than B's ever was.
7. I'm carrying higher than B.  

Now, don't get me wrong. I'll be equally as pleased if it's a boy. I have tubs of clothes and other boy things that will make our pocketbook quite happy. Plus, I've been doing this wild boy thing for a little while and it's a ton of fun.

However, I think it will be a little easier to further convince Jeremy that we aren't doing this again if he gets that little girl. If she's a redhead, I'll definitely get my way!

So here's to finding out what we are having! Countdown: 7 days!

What do you think? Girl or Boy??

Second Time Around

Going into this pregnancy, I knew a few of things:

1. I wanted a baby.
2. I hated being pregnant.
3. Pregnancy could be easier or it could be the same. Either way, it would be different to some degree.
4. Pregnancy would end.

What I didn't anticipate, was how much worse it would be or just how different my body would handle it.

Here's the thing. The second pregnancy is no joke. Your body goes from being pregnant for a second to being pregnant at 7 months in a matter of seconds.

By 10 a.m., I am ready for a nap. By 2 p.m., I am screaming for a nap. And at 9 p.m., I can't make myself fall asleep. At 11 p.m., I finally am about to fall asleep only to realize I have to pee. At 3 a.m, I have to get up again to pee. Then, at 7 a.m., I must wake up for the day. And this is every.single.night. Why must my body torture me so early???? I get it. I won't sleep with a new baby!! Please let me try to sleep before he/she shows up!! Geez...

Also, if you remember with Bradley, I suffered from SPD during my THIRD trimester. This time around... it hit at about 8 weeks. I was walking down the hallway one minute, then all of a sudden I wasn't. My hip came out of joint and I fell to the ground. I'm guessing by the time I get to the third trimester, they'll have me in a wheelchair.

My right, bottom rib... Yup, it's bruised for eternity.

My lower back?? You mean, it normally doesn't ache like this???

I've also got braxton hicks kickin' in slightly before they are needed,  pressure that is much like that of my child trying to push their way out prematurely, and a list of other things that Jeremy would say should not be put on the blog because it's too personal.

Oh! And then there are those lovely symptoms that I missed with Bradley. Bloody noses, arms and legs randomly going numb, the never ending headache, and, again, a list of other things that Jeremy told me to delete.

And so I have come to the conclusion that while Bradley may have been a parasite that slowly sucked the life out of me. This child is a flesh eating bacteria that is quickly eating me from the inside out. This one is a fighter and is determined to win over me. "Survival of the fittest," it taunts. This is also one of the reasons I think this child is a girl. She wants me to know that my reign as Queen is slowly coming to an end and I will no longer be "the fairest of them all."

Yup, she's going to destroy me.

Exciting News!!

I have some big news.... like really big news.

I have been holding this news in for MONTHS. And I am soo excited that I can FINALLY talk about it.

Curious? Want to know??

I know. The suspense driving you nuts?? Let me tell you. It's big.

But don't worry. I won't make you wait as long as I've had to wait to share this news with you. Nope. I'm nice. Some people are just slow.... or is it cautious? Either way it's crazy.  Yup... C-R-A-Z-Y.

But without further ado......






MY BEST FRIEND IS EXPECTING HER FIRST CHILD!!! WOO HOO!!!!

 This is Rachael holding Bradley the day he was born. Doesn't she look so natural??

Want to know the really, really cool part?? She's due the day before me. How crazy is that?! So really our kids could have the SAME birthday. And it may be a race to see who can birth the first baby of the year. ;-)

I honestly couldn't be happier for her and her husband, Jeffrey. It is amazing how our stories have just intertwined through this pregnancy. I am so grateful for her and the way she has loved Jeremy and I these last few months. Rachael is one special person who is going to make a beautiful mom.

 The mommy and daddy to be!

I am also happy to report that if it weren't for soreness, she wouldn't even know she was pregnant. Yup, she is one of the 20% who did not experience ANY morning sickness. Can you imagine?? I am completely jealous.

I can also report that the baby in her belly is in good shape. Rachael is one of those amazing moms-to-be who follows all the rules and protects that child from any possible harm. Me, on the other hand, am all about survival. Rachael knows that if she ever is feeling guilty about something she did, she can call me and feel really good about herself and the health of her baby. Ha!

I have really, really loved being a part of Rachael's pregnancy journey. She is one funny girl and I can't wait to tell her child all the things she's been saying and doing. And I am sure Rachael will gladly return the favor.

So... Get out your calendars because at 4 p.m. on August 15, we both find out the sex of our little ones.

My guess is that Rachael is having a BOY. But we'll just have to wait and see.

Congratulations Rachael and Jeffrey!! Your life is about to be filled with sweetness and happiness. A true taste of God's massive love for us. Can't wait to meet your little one and love on him/her for the rest of his/her life.

The longest flight/evening of my life

A few weeks ago, I needed to fly out to Texas last minute. Since I stay at home with our son, Bradley, I knew he would need to come along. And, as you know, last minute flights are not cheap so Jeremy and I figured I'd have to do this alone.

Now, you should know that leading up to this trip, I had been extremely sick with a case of baby in my belly. There had been many days where I didn't leave my bed. I was throwing up every few hours, nauseous constantly, and eating so little that I was not consuming enough calories to meet my needs much less a baby's. I had barely walked more than 300 feet in a little over 2 months. Yet, when Jeremy said he doubted we could make it work out so that he could go, I was positive and upbeat about the situation. I said something like, "That's fine. People fly alone with toddlers all the time. I can do this. I know I can."

You have no idea how happy I am to tell you that we found super cheap flights the next day that actually allowed Jeremy to come with Bradley and I. There is no way on this planet that I would have been able to do that trip alone. I would have ended up selling Bradley at some point to the highest bidder and then jumping out of the plane myself. Although, I don't think we would have even made it to the flight. We more than likely would not have even made it much further than security. And in this scenario, Bradley would have still been sold and I would have jumped in front of the train under the airport.

Our flight was scheduled to take off at 7:30 p.m. We chose this time so that Jeremy could work a full day and we were hoping that since B goes to bed around 8, he'd naturally sleep during most of the flight. He is a very good sleeper and he's usually the one to tell us when it is time for a nap or bed! Ha! Was I ever wrong!

We arrived at the airport around 5:00 p.m. We decided to do the park and ride thing. So we grab our extra large suitcase, our hanging bag, diaper bag, Bradley's teddy bear and blanket, the GoCrib, and B's carseat.  Picture us?? Yeah, we were a hot mess of stuff and toddler.

Then, we wait for a bus. As we are waiting, Bradley notices the planes flying overhead.  I tell him that they are planes and they fly in the sky. "Prains!" "Sky!" he starts to exclaim.

About 10 minutes later and about 100 "prains" later, the bus arrives. We go check our huge suitcase. We decided to check the carseat at the gate to protect it as much as possible and we were taking the hanging up bag, diaper bag, and GoCrib as carry on. So here we are walking through the airport: Jeremy carrying the carseat and GoCrib and me carrying Bradley, the diaper bag, and Bradley's accessories. Thankfully, Megan joined us for the flight out so she had our hanging up bag. Can you picture us?? We were still a hot mess of stuff and toddler.

Now, also picture with me Bradley saying "prains" e.v.e.r.y.t.i.m.e. he sees one...which is about every 5 seconds. Then, imagine with me my sweet husband asking me how I am doing every 5 feet... literally every 5 feet. They were both so annoying that I really didn't know if either of them was going to make it to our flight.

And then there was me. I was busy praying to Jesus the whole time that our flight was right around the corner because I didn't know if I could walk a step further without passing out. The walk to our terminal alone seemed to take an eternity. And we were in Terminal A... as in the first one!

We finally made it to our terminal, grabbed dinner, and sat at our gate waiting. We flew Delta and so I knew we'd be able to board the flight very first since we had B. I was looking forward to that moment of calmness before everyone else boarded. Mainly because I needed to calm myself before this flight. I was nervous about having complications with my pregnancy because of the altitude and pressure. (I had called the doctor to get cleared for the flight and they told me that it was fine unless I had any issues. To which I thought, who doesn't have issues with their pregnancy??) And also because I just wanted to get the whole thing over with.

Well, Jeremy decided to run him and B to the bathroom before the flight. Not 2 minutes after they left, we were called to board.... 15 minutes later, Jeremy shows up with B. Yup, we were the last ones to board. We get on the flight to discover that the flight is completely full and we are on the VERY last row. As in, no window and right beside the bathroom.

Bradley was completely in awe of everything going on. He wanted to read all the safety brochures, press all the buttons, meet all our neighbors, and absolutely not sit in our lap. We were able to distract him for a little with the iPhone, and then again with a magazine. Then, I went to the restroom allowing him to take my seat which he liked. However, then, he decided to scream out in joy a couple of times as he attempted to tickle us causing the entire flight to turn and look at us with that disgusting look of "Can't you control your child??". I wanted to slap every last one of them and then hand them Bradley and say good luck while I took a nap.

 Unfortunately, in none of this time would he go to sleep. We tried everything. I set him up a little bed. I sang. I read. He was just too fascinated by the "prain."

The flight was only an hour and a half, but it felt like a six hour flight. A six hour flight spent wrestling a bull. I was fully exhausted at the end and so thankfully that it was Jeremy sitting beside me and not some random person. Seriously, can you imagine if I had to do it alone??

Once we arrived in Texas, we had to walk through another airport and then distract Bradley while we waited on our luggage. The luggage decided to take its precious time and arrived to us an hour after we landed.
 
Luggage in hand, we got to my grandparents' car and proceeded to put the carseat in adding another 30 minutes to the trip. And as we drove to their house, all completely exhausted and tired, Bradley, wide awake, reminded us constantly that we had just rode on a "prain" in the "sky."

A compilation of letters

Over the past three months, I have written many a letters. Here are a few.

----------

Dear Jeremy,

You are a saint.

Love,
Your grossly sick un-human wife

----------

Dear Bradley,

Could you please quit bringing me all your toys whenever I am stuck in the bathroom?

Love,
Your grossly sick and weak mom

----------

Dear Parker,

Why do you insist on throwing up beside me every time I do??

Love,
Your grossly sick mom

-----------

Dear baby,

You are killing me. Please stop.

Sincerely,
Your soon-to-be deceased mom

------------

Dear future Jessica,

If you ever, ever, ever think about having another baby, please go into the bathroom, stick your head in the toilet and stay there for a few hours. Like it? Yeah, neither do I. If that doesn't change your mind, please put on your heaviest sweater on the hottest day of the year and stand outside for a few hours. Still not convinced?? Try not eating for a week and then go run a mile. Yeah, that's what I thought. Two kids is a great number!

Sincerely,
Your ugly past

------------

Dear Bella,

Does the drinking blood thing really work??

Sincerely,
Desperate

------------

I didn't know I was pregnant

Let's be honest for a moment.

I have really thought for the last four months that I was going to wake up at any moment and be in labor.

I have woken up with occasional nausea. I have had funky "times of the month."  I have felt what I thought was braxton hick contractions. I have had restless leg syndrome return randomly. And then the other day I seriously felt a baby kick in my belly.

I kid you not. It felt like a baby in my belly...kicking. I was completely freaked. So I did what any normal person would do in this situation: I looked in the mirror to see if I had a "belly" and when I was unsure since I'm certain all women post-pregnancy have a slight belly, I ignored it.

I wished it away and went on with my day. Then, it happened again... and again... and again.

That's when I realized that if a baby was in my belly, I would have to be at least 5 months pregnant. This immediately caused me to conclude that my next stop would inevitably be as a star on the popular TLC television show I didn't know I was pregnant.

I was going to sit on the toilet in about 4 months and poop this crazy child out of my belly. Then, Jeremy and I were going to have to kick Megan out of our house, somehow put together a nursery in 24 hours, and try really hard not to have a complete meltdown.

And again I decided that I shouldn't mess with fate and should continue to ignore it. I was going to roll with the punches. Let life happen. And pray this would all work itself out.

Then, today, something magical happened. I opened my Reader to find this blog post.

Now, why did no one tell me that along with the occasional incontinence and about a thousand other post-pregnancy weird side effects, you could also experience what is called a PHANTOM BABY KICK?? I mean, really?? Really?? What crap is that?

Thankfully, I am not alone in the world. However, apparently this could also mean, according to Google, that I am psycho and wishing to go through hell pregnancy all over again.

Either way, I think I'll just keep ignoring it and refer to these moments as "gas."

Maternity Photos

 
 A few weeks ago, Jeremy and I had a blast with Jessica from Two Chics Photography taking maternity pictures. We seriously went to places around town that 1. we'd never been to and 2. we probably won't go back. It was some scary parts, but oh so fun! To see a video of the images, click HERE.And thank you, Jessica! We LOVE them. Can't wait for you take the pictures of Bradley!

Me, Jeremy, and our Queen-sized Bed

We don't get along.

Actually, we haven't gotten along in a while, but the relationship has become even more strained in the last two weeks.

See Exhibit A.

Our relationship started in Middle School. The bed was given as a gift along with a matching dresser. I loved the height of the bed; the size was perfect; it was made wonderfully. I knew I was fortunate.

And I was one.

Then, I married and became two.

During the first year of marriage, the bed was cozy and romantic.

During the second year, it was small.

During the third year, it was cramped and annoying.

During this pregnancy, it has been my biggest complaint, annoyance, frustration, and downfall. Our love relationship has turned into one that could closely resemble one of hate.

Because now I am three. Add a needy dog into the mix and we quickly become four.

Three people and a dog are not meant to fit into a queen-sized bed.

Especially us four.

Pregnancy has turned me into a human incubator. I produce more heat and sweat more than any human being should be allowed. Where I used to bundle up and ask Jeremy to hold me, I now have fans blowing on me and beg him to move at least a foot away. Combine this with his natural production of body heat and his need to snuggle whenever possible and you have a recipe for disaster. Add a queen-sized bed to the mix, an extra-large belly, pillows, and hormones... and well... we are just lucky that World War III hasn't broken out in our home.

We tried to persevere. I tried to share the bed; Jeremy tried not to touch me. But he couldn't. "Love" he said. Then he began to steal my pillows. "Sympathy pains." THEN he started to complain about how cold it was in our bedroom.And at that moment God saved him.

The time came for time to change. Now, it was getting darker earlier which somehow innately made Jeremy tired extra early. I'm talking about 8 p.m. early. And Jeremy, the sweetheart he is, won't go to bed without me and thus he would fall asleep on the couch. So, naturally, I quickly learned that I could stay up for another hour or two and then sneak to the bed ALONE.

It's like I'm back in Middle School and rediscovering the joy of a queen-sized bed for the first time. So now,  I'm nine months pregnant and sleeping pretty much through the whole night. It's awesome! Mind you, Jeremy quickly caught on to what I was doing, and I had to explain my reasoning. Trust me: me getting a full night's rest is not only for my benefit; it is for his too. I am not so nice when I don't get sleep. And we reached an agreement. I get a couple night's a week to myself and a couple of night's he joins me.

Plus, I may have told him that it's either this way or he's buying me a king-size bed immediately. One that requires a passport to go from one side to other side.

One Forgetful Weekend

This past weekend was rough. Not only did I have to experience my last day at a job I love... No worries my new one is going to be super great too. It has already involved afternoon naps!... But my brain seemed to leave my body.

It started on Friday after work. I went to Target to buy a couple of things. And, of course, as with any Target trip what should be quick ends up being 3 hours and what should be 2 things ends up being a buggy full. Ah. How I love Target!

Well, I was planning on going to get lunch after my "quick" trip to Target. So by the time I left my now 3 hour trip, I was starving. So much so that I went out of my way to get exactly what I wanted: Wendy's. I ordered a Jr. Hamburger, a Sour Cream and Chive Baked Potato, and a Reese's Twisted Frosty. The perfect meal for my last day of working outside the home. Then, I drove up to the window, reached into my purse to pull out my wallet, and felt nothing... I got out of the car. Looked in the trunk. Nothing. My wallet was gone. I had used it last at Target and knew that I must have left it at the register. I was so upset and mad. I was upset that I would just walk away from my wallet without thinking and mad that the cashier didn't catch up to me and give it to me when she noticed it was gone. I mean, I don't move very fast these days. It's not like I ran out. Soo... I had to leave Wendy's, leave my food, and go all the way back to Target to get my wallet... while starving. The worst part was that when I got it all I wanted was to go home. So I did where I ate a frozen dinner. NOT a great last day of work meal.

Then, came Sunday. Jeremy had to leave before me. He always locks up and sets the alarm before he leaves. So after I got ready I turned off the alarm, unlocked the door, and walked Parker. Then, I came inside, put Parker in the crate, grabbed my purse and walked to the door. Now, my keys hang from a hook near the door. I went to grab them only they weren't there. So I went to my next spot: our dresser. It was a disaster so I had to make more of a mess to look. No keys. I went to the living room; no keys. I went to the kitchen. No keys. Then I remembered that Jeremy used  them last when he drove my car the day before. So I called him. No answer. That's when I just happened to look at the back door... where my keys were hanging from the lock from when I walked Parker 10 minutes prior.

Later that day, Jeremy and I were leaving for home group. We got all the stuff together that we needed to take with us and put it on the kitchen counter, walked Parker, set the alarm, and then left. The minute we walked out of the house I realized we had left the garage opener inside so I gave Jeremy a look. He laughed, went inside, and grabbed the food off the counter. Yup, the food never, ever crossed my mind and the only reason the garage opener did was because we had an immediate need for it. Thank goodness for Jeremy.

Then, after home group Jeremy and I went to Publix to get our groceries for the week. We didn't need many.. maybe 10 items... so it was a quick trip. We drove straight from Publix to our house. It's a 10 minute drive maybe. I pulled us into the garage, got out, locked the door and proceeded to shut the garage door. Jeremy started laughing and asked me if I forgot anything. I said, "no." And he said, "We just went to the grocery store." Yes, in that 10 minute drive, I forgot all about that trip. I'm so glad Jeremy was there. Can you imagine if I went the next day and got into the car with spoiled milk?!

Today, my pregnancy app told me that pregnant women's brains actually shrink during pregnancy. I hope mine doesn't shrink anymore or may forget who I am or worst!

It's a crazy dream world

Ah.. the side effects of pregnancy just keep coming! One's just got to love it all.

The latest has been crazy dreams.

Before I go any further I must say that this one I blame completely on my good friend Annette. She is the kindest person you will ever meet. So calm, supportive, and positive. Spending time with her is like Christmas morning. Seriously. I love it. I need it. I envy it.

Anyways, one day we were talking about pregnancy (Annette has three beautiful kids) and she happened to ask me if I have had any weird dreams, because she remembered having the craziest dreams during each of her pregnancies.

Well, up until that point I had not had any. I was honestly a little relieved. I mean, one more symptom to add to my list of ever growing reasons why Bradley will remain indebted to me for forever is not something I really want to do.

But wouldn't you know that that night the crazy showed up in my dreams?? Seriously. Within 24 hours of our conversation, I start having the wildest dreams.

In the first one, Bradley was crying to be fed. There were a ton of people around and apparently in dream world, I am bold and will expose my breasts to anyone, so I picked him up, lifted up my shirt, and started to feed him. But when I looked down at him to help him latch, it was Parker not Bradley. Parker proceeded to lick my boob a couple of times and then bite it. I woke up.

In Dream #2, I am at Belk pregnant... hugely pregnant. The sales clerk tells me that they are looking for models for their latest catalog and asks if I would like to participate. "Of course!" I say. She points me to the back warehouse area and says I need to show up there no later than 3 p.m. Which I do. Except when I show up the photo shoot is over. It had gotten moved to 1 p.m. and no one had contacted me.... probably because I was hugely pregnant. Anyways. I decided to hang out and watch them finish the last shot of the day. As I'm standing there the photographer yells, "Hey! Let's get a picture of everyone from today's shoot." I don't join in, but stand off to the side. The photographer notices and says, "It's no big deal; you should still join in." I hesitate. Then, without further ado, Mario Lopez comes over, grabs my hand and sits me on the step below him. He then proceeds to rub my belly... like I am budda. I wake up.

Then comes Dream #3. Jeremy said that this one I need to forget completely. He says I don't need to pay attention to it. But this one I'm hoping is a good sign of things to come. It started with me in a bathtub. I'm complete relaxed. Then, my doctor comes in and says, "Jessica, you need to get out of there now. It's time to give birth." I slowly get out of the tub and start to walk towards the bed, but then Bradley drops. I feel it. He drops hard. I tell the doctor who responds it's ok. I just need to get in the bed. I say I can't. He's coming. Then, within seconds, out slides Baby Bradley without me feeling any pain. He's completely clean. No mess. The only odd part of the dream is that he has more rolls than the Michelin Man and a really, really tiny head. Jeremy says that wasn't the only odd part, but I choose to ignore him. What does he know??

Ups and Downs

This is my preferred method of delivery. Just like in the 1940s.

Or what I perceive through watching Leave it to Beaver.

No sign of machines. No weird smells. No mauve rooms with ugly stiff furniture.

Yes. I visited the hospital where Jeremy wants Bradley born yesterday. I say it like that because after seeing the horrible decor, feeling the extreme heat in each room, and smelling the disgusting hospital smell, I have once again decided that Bradley is quite comfortable inside of me. And if he wants to come out, then he just as well do it in my home.

Now, before you freak and tell me all the awful things that can happen at a home birth, trust me, Jeremy will not allow me to follow through with it. He will no doubt drag me to the car, drag me into the horrible hospital room, and then yell at me to push all while I frantically cry and tell him equally horrible things back.

But let's not discuss that. Let's instead discuss my visit.

I'm not really sure what I thought the experience would be like. I'd been doing so good with my breathing exercises. I was starting to get really excited about meeting Bradley and holding him and honestly never letting go. But as I drove closer to the hospital two things happened. My breath became shorter and my driving speed decreased. And with both I knew it was going to be bad.

I warned Jeremy.

My first stop into the hospital was a public bathroom. It was disgusting. Toilet paper strung everywhere, a dirty seat, nasty smell. It was not a good start for someone like me.

Then, we started the tour. Now, picture our petite guide walking at normal pace. Then, Jeremy about 5 feet behind her. And me waddling a good 10 feet behind him. The minute we went through the security doors I was a bomb waiting to explode.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't hear. I couldn't see.

I remember standing in the birthing room with its horrible mauve walls and cheap cabinetry and uncomfortable chairs and a mat they called a bed and thinking, "Where are the Care Bears?" "Where is the fluffiness?" "Where is the comfort??"

And then I noticed the machines. And the smell. And the baby bed that was more like a clear tupperware dish.

Jeremy knew I was fading. I wasn't talking. I was staring trying to think of why I ever decided to birth a child. I wanted the 1940s stork!

Then, instantly I realized how hot I was. Sweat covered my arm pits and back of my neck. I asked our guide if I would be able to control the air in our room. (I was given the impression I would be.) And she said no. Without thinking I desperately looked at Jeremy and said, "Well, that's going to be a problem. I can't give birth in this heat." The lady then informed me that the nurses would call down to the boiler room for me if I needed it. Oh.. you better bet they will, I thought.

Then, she started telling us that video cameras and regular cameras were allowed in the delivery room. "Well, we don't have to worry about that," I said. To which she kindly replied, "Some people really like to take a picture when the baby first comes out." To which I, without thinking, said, "That's gross."

And in that instance, our guide made up her mind. She didn't like me. She then began to only address Jeremy. And even took up a conversation with another nurse ignoring us all together. Jeremy tried to make up excuses for me. "We want to create as stress free of a zone for her." "She's really anxious about this whole process." And if he couldn't come up with anything, he'd give me that look. The look that says you better shut-up and go back to being quiet.

The worst was when I asked her if the nursing staff would keep my family up-to-date on the birth progress. She answered that my family will be able to call our room and my husband and I can speak to them directly. I smiled and said, "Not if they don't have the number." Jeremy quickly replied, "We have a big family" AND gave me the look.

And don't worry, Family, she did say that the nurses will keep you updated.

And then, she showed me the door.

So now I am going to be forced to give birth in a mauve, uncomfortable, smelly room with a staff that already dislikes me.

If only Jon Lewis were here to make it all better! Or we lived in the 1940s when most women had home births...

A Vending Machine, The Military, and Me

Last week, Wednesday to be exact, a problem arose at our office.

The vending machine disappeared! It was without notice, without warning, and without a back-up plan. It was also not cool. And action had to be taken. Now for context you should know that there had been talk of getting rid of the machine all together. It was a poor sight. Stale, melting, expired, sparse, random are just a few of the words people used to describe that machine. But it was loyally there... until Wednesday that is...

As a pregnant woman, the vending machine is practically my best friend (Sorry, Jeremy... I figure chocolate has calcium and peanuts have protein... It's really healthy. Plus, your son loves both.) and so action had to be taken.


*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

---------------------


Hi Sam:

I just went to the breakroom and discovered that our snack machine has gone missing! Now, for any normal human being this probably is not a big deal. The snacks were old and white. Some were placed oddly within itself so no one could obtain it. I understand in a normal sense. But you see… I am far past normal. I am almost 7 months pregnant. I rely on that snack machine for those cravings that hit in an instance. I have no control over when or how it will happen. All I know, is that my security in those moments has left the building. And I wonder—is this for forever? Will it return? And what am I, a not sane person, supposed to do?!

Greatly appreciative of all you do,

Tessica

---------------

Tessica,

We are in process of changing vendors.Our new machines will arrive Friday morning.
 
Take care,
Sam

--------------

Thanks, Sam, for the update! Although, I must say I was hoping for more of an interaction. I thought it would be an entertaining blog entry ;-)

----------------

Good Morning Tessica,

I really apologize for the inconvenience. You know that I spent over 22 years in military as a result I was always trained to be brief.

Sam

--------------

Sam even made a personal visit to me.. I mean, Tessica.... further explaining that his training taught him to take action and then disengage immediately. To which I smiled and said that's funny. My training taught me to react and then hang on for dear life. I mean, I am a blogger who needs material... a lot of it. And I saw great potential in this vending machine scenario. Potential that needed to be brought forth. Plus, who doesn't like a little banter at the office.

Well, needless to say a new vending machine appeared on Friday and it was beautiful, full, fresh, cheaper... everything one dreams about in such a machine... especially a pregnant woman.

Thank you, Sam!

Good-bye Heels

I love shoes.

Like these:

And these:

Ooo.. and these:

I d.i.e. Seriously.

Before Jeremy and I said I do, I would celebrate each paycheck by buying a new pair of shoes. It was a gift for working so hard. Jeremy took that gift away. Now, I have to convince him each season why I need one new pair. 4 new pairs a year. It should be a crime to limit the expression of my individuality in such a way.

Anyways. That's not what this post is about. This post is about how my love for shoes has been forced to be tweaked. 

You see, I love HIGH heels. The higher the better. I love that they show off my calf. I love how they look with long pants, skirts, and dresses. I love being taller than Jeremy. I love how great they make me feel... like a natural woman...  yes, I went there... I love, love, love high heels.

So it was only characteristic of me to announce the moment I got pregnant that I was going to be proof that pregnant women could wear high heels until the bitter end. I was going to be stylish, chic, and with the highest of heels. Watch out world.

I have big dreams, internet.

Then those dreams came crashing down with a little dysfunction called SPD. Don't look it up. You'll be frightened by all the internet says. Rather let me give it to you straight. The hormone relaxin in my body has shifted my pubic bone in a way that is unnatural. This causes me great pain... in high heels. That's all you need to know. Pregnancy will be normal. No other side effects. I just can't wear high heels.

Did you get that?? No, high heels! Oh, the humanity!!

But, of course, this would happen to me. Why not? I've only suffered a little the past 7 months. Obviously, I need more opportunities for growth.

So like with most things these days, I cried about it.

Then, I tried to force the high heels upon my pubic bone. Bad idea! It fought back with a vengeance.

So Jeremy took me shopping for some flats. FLATS!

I was mortified by the thought. I told him so only about a million times. But the minute we walked into the shoe store I was taken over. A lot of people must be wearing flats these days. They are everywhere! Not only that, but they are actually super cute!

My husband was so kind to let me buy two pairs.. in the same season. A black and brown pair. And they are super cute.

See??

And these:

I also bought a pair of TOMS to wear when I really want to be comfy in my flats... this was a separate trip that Jeremy found out about afterward... we survived only because of Bradley and his need to have a comfortable mother.

So all in all, I guess it's okay that I can't wear my high heels. I mean, now I'm short, with what appear to be cankles... but I'm not in pain like I was. And I beat my record for new shoes bought in a year with a husband attached. That alone is something to celebrate!

My Issues

Let's face it. I have issues.

You can ask my parents, siblings, husband, co-workers, friends, or even friends of friends. I do horrible at hiding it and even occasionally try to play them off as not that big of a deal... or even funny. But all I really do is make myself look more like a nut.

It all started as a kid. I'd like to blame my parents. They forced me to swallow the hugest pills ever that would make my hair grow. Why would they need to make my hair grow?? I present you with Exhibit A.

I think my mom enjoyed torturing me with horrible haircuts growing up. She must have liked the thought of all nicknames I would receive on the playground. Why else would she insist on cutting my hair to the shape of a bowl??

I can honestly say that I have major lapses of memory from my childhood all of which center around the haircut I had at the time. This photo: no recollection. Ages 8-13: nothing. I believe it is my brains way of protecting me from needing additional counseling.

However, the pills I cannot forget. Because of those horrible nights I cannot swallow pills larger than an Aleve. I've tried, but the pill always wins.

Then, there is my jaw. While dating, Jeremy invited a friend, Amanda, and me to a haunted forest his fraternity was putting on. We were almost out of the horrid thing when he just disappeared. Then, within a minute a man, rather a boy, jumps out with a chainsaw and chases us with what at that moment I could only assume was the intent to kill us. I go one way; my friend the other. And my jaw becomes dislocated. So now, when I go to the dentist I have to tell the story and then take breaks throughout the cleaning and inspecting so as to not wear out my jaw. One apparently never fully recovers from such injuries.

And, yes, somehow I still forgave him enough to marry him. What love I have!

Then, there is needles. I'm not really sure where this stems from. It could the fact that I do not get pleasure from pain like some of you crazies. Or it could be that I gave blood once and ended up passing out. Either way, to this day, my hand must be held when a shot is administered and I will likely have a panic attack followed by tears, and the realization that indeed I am 3.

So one can only imagine what happened two weeks ago when my issues came to a head: the moment in which it hit me that in just a few weeks Bradley must leave my body.

Ok, ok. I realize how dumb that must sound. And I can just picture you laughing at that at 7 months this thought just occurred to me. Of course he has to leave your body. What did you think would happen?? He'd just grow up and eventually take over your body?? And my answer to you is yes, yes I actually did.

For the past 7 months my mindset has been to survive. And because of my issues I have just casually ignored the inevitable. I concentrated on each day as if it were my last. Pushing forward for the better of my son.

Then, out of the blue reality hit. It was bad. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. I was dizzy. It was a panic attack.

I took deep breaths to calm myself down and then called Jeremy. "Maybe it's time you read something," was his response. Thank you, Sherlock Holmes.

However, reading something takes time that I do not have. And I'm convinced that the whole mission of the female race is to torture each other with horrific "what-if" stories. So I did the next best thing. I called every childbirth educator within a 45 mile radius.

And no one returned my call. 

I wondered if it was the desperation in my voice. Or perhaps that apparently I should have already been in a class. Or that I may have let on that I needed to work through some issues.

So a week later, I called everyone again. This time, Jennifer called me back. Sweet, sweet Jennifer. I could tell that as I tearfully told her my story and hinted towards my issues (no need to overwhelm so early on) that she truly felt bad for me, and that she wanted to help. Hallelujah!

So two nights ago, we started our birthing classes. We talked through some of my fears and things that could trigger my anxiety. We talked through the medical aspect of birthing a human being (Hey- I didn't just stop breathing!) and how our bodies were made to adapt to such extreme pain and stretching. I sat and absorbed. Jeremy asked tons of questions and took notes. So between us I'm actually feeling a little better today. I haven't completely agreed to Bradley's grand exit, but I am a step closer.

We go back next week to work on breathing exercises, stretches, and positions. It should be interested. Rumor has it that one is actually called the Captain Morgan. I may just have to take my camera...

Are you a betting man??

Bradley has around 10 weeks left before he makes his debut. And in classic Mac-Vegas style, Jeremy and I thought it would be fun to make bets on when exactly that debut will happen.

Personally, I think it will be December 6 around 3:15 p.m.

Jeremy's guess is December 5 at 3 a.m.

Now, your turn. What day and time do you think he'll come forth?

The person with the closest day and time will receive a $10 gift card to Target. 

And just to be fair: You should all know that I have a final on December 2. My legs will be tightly crossed until then. :-)

Good Luck!

Thursday night

This is Jeremy.

He is my husband. The love of my life. And the cook of our house.

This is Bradley.

Jeremy had a lot to do with Bradley's existence... You'd think this would help me. It does not. It just makes me wonder...

Thursdays are my long days. I have work and then class. I take snacks to carry me and Bradley through. I eat extra protein. But by the time I get out of class, Bradley usually has resorted to eating a rib. This is what happened last night.

I come home and tell our house chef that Bradley needs to eat. He responds that he fell asleep; dinner still has a while. I stare. I scratch my head. I ask why.

This is what time it was.

 

 This is what the timer said

Jeremy then said it was actually longer than that. I ask why again. I swore we had leftovers. I swore we had quick frozen dinners. I swore there are a thousand restaurants within a 15 mile radius of our house. I ask why.

He responds with he fell asleep. He was sorry.

So apparently when my husband, whom I love very much, wakes up at 7:30 p.m. and realizes he has to feed his growing family, he decides to cook this

Like this:

And again I ask why. No, seriously. Why?

For the love... of a dog

Parker knows change is coming.

He senses it.

While Jeremy encourages me along throughout this pregnancy, my baby boy sympathizes with it.


It all started when I was getting sick 24/7. Almost every other day, Parker would join me by throwing up himself. Of course, I would follow that up with throwing up again, only to prove that I am alpha.

Then came the constipation. We would seriously go a week without a "doo doo". {Yes, we command our dog to use the restroom and reward it with a "t-r-e-a-t". Heck, at that point in my pregnancy, I rewarded myself for going #2!}

Naps quickly became a staple for us.

And after we both began to eat again, we started to gain weight... together. Our little Parker quickly began to turn into a Porker courtesy of sympathy pains, increased human food consumption, and an increased amount of dog food.

{On a side note, this was actually a great thing because the vet said he needed to gain weight. Of course, our precious angel is the pickiest eater in the entire universe of dogs and so it took some creativity to make it happen, but all in all it worked and he actually wears the weight adorably. Although, it has given him a big dog complex...}

When I started to get hot flashes, Parker began to experience them as well. Or perhaps he just likes the feel of the wind blowing in through his hair. I'm not really sure...

Leg cramps and toe cramps always brought about lots of kisses from my baby. He would run to me immediately wanting to make it all go away. I tell you, he's an angel.

The most interesting part, though, has been the change in Parker's personality. He's gone from Mr. Independent to Mr. Snuggles in just the past month. He can't seem to get close enough to Jeremy or I. It's really too cute. All he wants is our love and attention.

For instance, the other night he woke me up because he heard a strange noise. Of course, I then woke Jeremy up who responded with a "Why did you wake me up?" and a "Heck no, I'm not going to go check it out." {No worries. He did. We were fine.} But as a reward for being such a brave little dog, I immediately moved Parker to our bed. The entire night he laid right beside me... in my arms. Totally out of character for him. Usually, he wants to be at the foot of the bed and sighs at me for even wanting him near my arms.

Yes, Parker knows that as my tummy grows, we are getting closer and closer to big changes.

So imagine my freak out moment when Mr. Snuggles all of a sudden disappeared into thin air!

Here's where I'm just going to be honest with you. It did take me a while to realize his absence. I promise I am an excellent Mom, but I was watching Rachel Zoe and well, I die. But the minute I realized Parker wasn't beside me I jumped up to see where he was.

I checked his favorite places first:

 By the door

In the kitchen

The dining room... My pace began getting quicker and quicker...

Our bedroom... Our bathroom

No Parker. I remembered earlier in the night he slipped through Jeremy's legs and ran outside, but I thought we got him back in. But maybe he went outside again.

I looked everywhere, under everything, in everything... I was a mess. So I called to Jeremy for reinforcement.

And that's when we found him. Under our bed, on top of my Vera Bradley bag, asleep. I mean, we always knew Parker had his quirks, but this took it to a whole new level.

 Now, when he's not on us, we know he's on top of Vera sleeping. And if he's on top of Vera, he does not want to be disturbed. He can be called, dragged, promised rewards, and nothing will get him off. As a dog mom expecting a child, I wonder if I should be concerned by this latest behavior.

Then again, maybe I need my own personal hiding place come December. Think Parker will share??