A Death In The Neighbourhood Family

Yesterday, as I was on my way to get groceries, I received some very sad news. Our next door neighbours' had to put their beautiful German Shepherd to sleep. Their dog had been ill with cancer for quite a while, but to my knowledge, she seemed to be getting a little better because of chemotherapy. Now, I'm not much of a neighbourhood fraternizer, mostly because I feel like I'm socially awkward and shy when it comes to people I'm not close with, but I was under the impression that the pup was on the up and up. Obviously not.

Sasha (the dog) had taken a turn for the worse this past week, and her family members thought it was best to end the suffering and send her off to a better place. We are all VERY sad about the news. Sasha was a fantastic dog. She would sit outside on the front grass most days just to keep an eye on the neighbourhood. She never strayed and was never a nuisance. She was always so sweet and friendly and she was an especially wonderful friend to my toddler. She was very patient with him, even when he was "petting her" (aka - thumping her on her back with great strength), pulling her ears or chasing her around the yard.

So, the family dilemma became, how to tell our little guy that his buddy Sasha had passed away. Our neighbours were so considerate that they took me aside and wanted to know what we were going to say, so that they could reiterate the same information to him if he ever asked. Not really sure how to break the news myself, I checked a couple of books to see what they recommended. Most books advise to keep it simple and tell the truth. Don't say things like "the dog has been put to sleep" or "the dog has gone away" because it might scare the child into believing that anyone may go to sleep or even make a trip to the grocery store without ever coming back. They also cautioned that children at this age don't really understand the idea of permanence, so they may ask where the dog is often. This might pose to be a painful reminder to my neighbours, but we're very lucky that they're both extremely understanding people.

What my husband and I ended up doing was telling our son that Sasha was very sick and died. We told him that she had gone to heaven, which is up in the sky, but that she was not coming back. He asked a couple of questions and we answered to the best of our abilities, but the explanation seemed to be enough. He did, however, ask where Sasha was a couple of times, after the fact, but we echoed that Sasha had gone to heaven, which is a better place, but she will not be coming back. I'm hoping that this explanation, though seemingly very blunt for a 2 year old, will help him grasp the concept of death, without sugar coating it.

Our deepest sympathies go out to the Moores. We know how much Sasha meant to you (as she meant a great deal to us, too!) and we hope that knowing that she's in a better place eases the pain, even a little bit. We will all miss her, but we know that she will still be keeping her watchful eye on the neighbourhood.

Daycare Nightmare

Before I go on my rant today about the terrible troubles I'm having arranging daycare for my eldest, I'm going to give you an update on my life...(if you're interested...)

YAYS
* I'm getting a haircut today (it's been almost a year since someone put scissor to head...it's VERY necessary and long overdue)

* Vegetable plants have arrived and there has been NO cat poop in the garden bed in days!!!!!

* No stretch marks (yet...)

* Weather is less humid (hence I am less sweaty)

* The cleaning lady ACTUALLY came back

* Still haven't killed any elderly people at the grocery store and the hot chick at aquafit still lives to swim another day

BOOS

* Still sleeping in the basement

* It's been too hot to actually plant those vegetables in the non-pooped in garden

* Not sure of baby's position (AGAIN!)

* Still scheduled for July 13th delivery (a week AFTER my due date)

GOALS

* Planting the veggies in the garden

* Pedicure (I'm still rockin' the beastly feet)

* Prenatal massage

* Keeping the baby in my tummy beyond the G20 summit weekend (since they released the blockade map yesterday I'm hoping I can hold out until AFTER the conference to go into labour. Otherwise you might read about me in the newspaper as one of those women who gives birth in their car waiting in line at some random check point.)

So, here's the deal. Finding good daycare in my area is IMPOSSIBLE. Done and done. Next post. Okay... I'll elaborate a little... I have been spoiled enough in the past 2 years and 3 1/2 months to have the opportunity to stay home with my little guy and be his primary caregiver. I consider myself very lucky to be able to do so, as most women don't have that luxury in this age. There have been days, however, that I wished I could ship my toddler off to someone else's residence (or Afghanistan) just to get a breather (what with colic (?) from 6 weeks to 4 months, terrible two tantrums, etc. you can either imagine or relate). With the imminent birth of my little beaner, I can't help but wonder how I will be able to juggle TWO kids in my little house ALL BY MYSELF. Thankfully my husband's company provides him with a month of paternity leave, so he'll be able to help out for the first 30 days...but what then?

My mother-in-law, who has been so gracious thus far, will be able to provide her babysitting duties in her usual capacity (two days a week)...but I wanted to be able to have a day where I could spend with JUST my big boy and dedicate ALL of my attention to him. So there goes one of those freebie - Nana days. That means there's just ONE left. ONE day to spend entirely with the little baby (something that my toddler had all day everyday for the first two and a half years of his life! Seems like a bit of a gyp for the wee one!). How can I squeeze in some more "alone" time with these kids? Especially when it looks like I'll have 3 days a week where I'm trying to keep 2 very differently needy kids at bay.

I had been warned ahead of time that the waiting lists for daycare spots in my area were very long, mostly because city run day cares are few and far between around here. There are also a paltry amount of home-run day cares in the vicinity, but I'm always apprehensive about those because without Big Brother watching over them, and no set standards with which daycare runners are to follow in raising kids, there's always the opportunity for it to get messy.

When I found out I was pregnant for the second time, I immediately heeded my warnings and put my dude on lists. 4 to be precise. 3 for part time (two days a week) spots and 1 for a spot at the local nursery school (3 days a week, but only mornings).

Now, I realize that I must sound like a spoiled brat to those who stay home with a handful of kids without ANY help of ANY kind, but trust me ladies, I want to hold on to the mild facade of sanity that I cling to now. Of course, I'm not sure what the temperament of this little beaner will be like, but if it's anything like my number one, I will definitely need a break in some capacity.

Recently I called all the schools that we're wait listed at, just to "check-in" (a.k.a. - beg and plead for a spot) and the highest number we've shifted to at this point is #38. (I was laughed at when I asked what the possibility was of having my little dude start in July when the baby arrives). We have been on the list already for 8 months...and I still have 38 people ahead of me. And that's just at ONE daycare????????? Luckily, we did get a call from the nursery school and, because their wait list was so long, they decided to open up a new program (two days a week, for 2 hours a day). I snatched that spot up as quickly as it was offered to me. Two hours a day, two days a week isn't much, but it's better than a kick in the pants. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that a full day spot will open up SOMEWHERE, but until then it looks like this is my best (...er...only?) option.

My hat goes off to all those mothers (who I know (MJ!) and who I don't) who stay home with more than one kid every day of the week. You are all superwomen and I'm not sure how you stay sane. You deserve more than a medal, but this shout-out is all I can offer. PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU'RE DOING IT!!!!!!!!!!

Can You Feel The LOVE Tonight?

Oh Elton...only you could sing this song. A nice, older, homosexual man could only have written this song with his beautiful young, supple, Canadian manlover in mind. Because you certainly have never been, and presumably will never be, a mammoth pregnant woman who has relegated herself to sleeping alone in her basement on her pullout couch.

Yes, everyone, this is my life. I have officially commenced my 34th week of pregnancy number two and my reward for this milestone is complete and utter uncomfortableness (if that's even a word!). Not only has my already overly hormonal body been thrown into sweat induced overdrive with the obnoxiously humid weather we're having, but I'm also SO enormous that I can NOT find a comfortable position to sleep in. This, in turn, has caused not only me, but also, my poor, wonderful husband to suffer through sleepless night after sleepless night.

Yesterday, I finally had enough. I packed my cool (meaning temperature, DEFINITELY not fashionable...) sheets and body pillow and marched my gigantic corpse down to the dungeon where it belongs. At least I felt a little better about my choice to move when I realized the temperature in the basement was several degrees cooler than anywhere else in the house. At least my goosebumps could keep me company in my lonely slumber.

I realize that as women progress into the later stages of pregnancy, discomfort is one of the main issues we all have in common. The baby gets bigger with less space to grow and move. The bladder becomes a trampoline, or punching bag for the little bean, and if you CAN make it to the bathroom before mild incontinence sets in, you're WELL ahead of the game. This is also the stage when most women suffer from the dreaded stretchmarks - that final kick in the groin from Mother Nature - her way of thanking us for all the hard work we've done so far creating a new life. Most women at this phase also suffer from restless sleep. Either because of the terrible heartburn they can suffer with (some have described it to me as a drowning feeling they have when they lie down flat...waking up choking on bile - GOOD GRIEF!) and others feel the weight of their baby pressing down on different nerves and ligaments. Hence their sleep becomes excruciatingly painful.

I luckily suffer from the non-choking affliction (phew!) BUT my sympathies go out to all who have to endure those TUMS filled days and nights. My torture is merely NUMBNESS. I generally fall asleep on my side without issue, but my body wakes itself up every 20 minutes or so to let me know that pins and needles have set in. In addition to the burning sensation I'm feeling, I also am afflicted with a dull, aching pain in my hips . So, I flip to the other side...but guess what???? Sleep sets in just in time to be woken up AGAIN to flip! And this goes on and on and ON AND ON all night! I would also love to lie on my back, which normally is not my position of choice, but as my options are extremely limited, it's my last resort. BUT, if you've ever been pregnant before, you know that lying on your back is trouble because the weight of the baby can press on an artery in the heart and cause light-headedness and nausea (and can sometimes even affect the amount of oxygen getting to the fetus!).

So, figuring I'm not ever going to be able to find a comfortable sleeping position for myself, there's no sense in taking the hubz down with me, right? One person in the household needs to get some semblance of sleep. So, martyr that I am, I made the sacrifice. As I lie on my thin Ikea cushion, shifting from left to right, I can only say, "Screw you and your ratty rug, Sir Elton!", as I know that's he's sprawled out on his over sized pillow top King mattress, cuddling all nice and warmly against his hot piece of Canadian ass.

Veggie Garden or Kitty Litter...Hmmmmmmmm....

So, if you know me, you know that I'm an avid gardener. I'm not sure if it's the generations of farmers that came before me (my Nonna has a farm in Italy and my Grandfather was the first of his family to NOT farm), or if it's just nature calling me. Every year I plant a vegetable garden and watch it grow. This year, even though I'm a massive whale, will be no different. My father has promised me that he will bring me some veggies to plant in the next week or so, so I'm very excited to get planting.

This past year, however, my backyard has been a haven for cats. The house two doors down is home to three kittens, Willow, Oreo and Katie, and they are, for the most part, pretty good cats. They're extremely tolerant of my toddler and are always happy to see us. My cat, Vernon, sometimes tries to protect the house through the glass door, but more often than not, comes away with his tail between his legs and mildly concussed. Needless to say, the cats in the neighbourhood are okay. At least, that's what I thought until I realized they were using my veggie plot as their own personal kitty litter.

Now, I'm a big fan of cats. I'm not a "cat lady" per se, but I do have two of my own. I am not, however, an avid believer of the "outdoor cat". Mostly because coming home to a flatten kitten on my driveway is not high on my list of priorities. This is why my cats are indoor cats.

The issue of kitten poop in my vegetable garden is definitely top of mind as I'm pregnant, as as many of you know, cat feces is a HUGE no-no for those who are gestating because of Toxoplasmosis. What is Toxoplasmosis you ask?

(definition taken from http://familydoctor.org/online/famdocen/home/women/pregnancy/illness/180.html)

"Toxoplasmosis is an infection that can threaten the health of an unborn child. It is caused by a parasite called Toxoplasma gondii. The parasite multiplies in the intestine of cats and is shed in cat feces, mainly into litter boxes and garden soil. You can get the parasite by handling cat litter or soil where there is cat feces. You can also get the parasite from eating undercooked meat (such as rare beef) from animals infected with the parasite."

So, this means that until the veggie garden is completely cleared of cat crap, I'm not allowed around it. My husband is, of course, a trooper and spent his afternoon yesterday removing all the logs of excrement so that he could till and turn the dirt. But I have a feeling that this new soil won't deter those little bastards one bit.

How do I prevent my last little bit of repose from disappearing before this new bundle of joy arrives in a little over a month's time? The internet gives me a couple of clues...

Some completely outlandish:

* Put some small sticks pushed into the ground like spikes. (Who am I? Vlad the Impaler?)

* Spray water at them when they come into your yard (If I was home 24 hours a day with nothing better to do, this might work...?)

* Put moth balls in your garden as cats don't like the smell (Have you smelled moth balls? I'm pretty sure I hate the smell MORE than the cats, therefore, this is NOT an option)

* Put some disinfectant fluid around the edges of the garden. The fluid is actually quite poisonous to cats and will kill them in fairly small amounts. (Did someone actually write this down without being turned in to the police? Hello????)

And some may actually be worth a try:

* Keep orange and lemon peels in your garden, as cats hate the smell of citrus

* Plant geraniums, marigolds and petunias to keep cats away (again because of the smell)

* Place a small length of hosepipe in amongst your plants, cats don't like snakes! (not sure if cats are that dumb, but I could give it a go)

* Invest in a bag of coffee grounds and spread around the garden

I guess I'll spend the next few days designing and implementing my plan, and keep my fingers crossed that it will work. I feel a bit bad that I'm shooing these little guys away, as I have no issue with them other than their poop, but my veggies must grow and they must grow with the help of only cow and sheep manure. Call me crazy, but I don't think cat manure carries the same fertilizing quality.

Generally speaking, I'm not normally one to tell people what to do with their life (....okay, maybe I am...?) but honestly, if there's a law to keep dog owners from allowing their furry pets from pooping on other people's lawns, shouldn't we show the same equality to our feline friends?

Desperately Seeking Pedicure

Okay...it's not THAT bad...but really... I'm in dire need! I made a list of "to do's" for the first long weekend of the "summer". I wanted to plant my annuals, weed the garden, clean the house and enjoy the weather. Seems like a pretty good list, no? So after completing numbers 1,2 and 3 on my agenda, I decided to shower before working on #4. That's when I had a look at my toes. I realize that I must seem like a foot fetishist because ALL I do is talk about my stinkin' tootsies, and the reality is that I actually hate feet. But again, my feet are massive logs of Flintstonium at the moment, and the only shoes I can squeeze onto my peds are flip flops. This is where my crisis commences...

After my shower I notice that my previous pedicure (done eons ago when the continents were all still linked together) had chipped and was looking pretty terrible. So, I decided to take off the old polish and start anew. Unfortunately, I had completely forgotten that I had a planet attached to my mid-section and could BARELY get my feet close enough to get Kleenex to polish remover to toes. Thankfully I was able to clean up the initial mess that I had, but was completely helpless to repaint them with the marksman precision that is required for a pedicure.

Now, you may say, "DUDE, go to the Vietnamese nail place at the end of your street and quit your yappin' already. Your toes are making me vomit" and to this I would reply, "I understand your nausea, trust me...but I feel like I can't." My hesitance to enter the nail salon stems from the pregnancy dos and don'ts list that every soon-to-be mother is introduced to in order to put the fear of God into her. Items that fall on this list include:

* No drinking, smoking or drugs (obviously)


* Limit your seafood (not a problem for me, as I'm vegetarian)


* No soft cheeses (not normally a problem, but this pregnancy I've been DYING for bocconcini...)


* No changing of kitty litter (PERFECT! Another excuse to get my husband to clean up after that killer cat from hell!)


* Limit the amount of caffeine


* ...and the list grows and grows and grows daily


Now, one could consider me a bit of an extremist when it comes to things to avoid while pregnant. When I read the word "LIMIT" in the don'ts section, my brain translates it into "IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT YOU AVOID THIS THING AT ALL COSTS" because if (GOD forbid) anything were to happen to my little beaner, I would go through the catalogue of everything I'd done over the past 10 months and blame myself for what had happened because of my weakness.


I read somewhere (don't ask me the source...) that one should limit their visits to nail salons because some nail products contain harmful chemicals. When one has repeated exposure to those chemicals (some of which contain formaldehyde) it can cause birth defects in their fetuses. So in the craziness that is my brain, I can't even walk by a nail salon without holding my breath or else I feel like I'm doing this:





Therefore, going to a nail salon is basically ensuring that I will give birth to Rusty from Mask.




So, where does that leave me? I'm not sure. I guess I could ask my poor husband to give me a pedicure, but I'm pretty sure I've emasculated him enough for this lifetime. I could always go toenail-naked, which in most seasons is quite bearable, but in the summer, not the most attractive of options. Lastly, I suppose I could go to the nail salon and take my chances...but the cons do still seem to outweigh the proson that option...What the world needs now is not love, but rather an esthetician that makes house calls. If you know of one, PLEASE let me know. Until then, just look away and don't judge me fore my lower digits will remain unkempt.

The Cleaning Lady vs. The Killer Cat From Hell

Hello, readers! I'm sorry that I've been m.i.a. this past week, but I'm now back on track, with both blog posts and random early morning wakings (hiccuping baby fetus in tow!). Just to keep you abreast on my life (whether you care or not is completely beside the point)...The baby has flipped to the "head-down" position (thankfully without lights or megaphones in the vagina), I've only gained two pounds since my last doctor's visit (and I've been eating like every meal is my last) and I've scheduled a c-section (only a week later than my due date - eeeeeeeeeek!). All's well here.

As some of you know, being pregnant for the second time is MUCH different than the first. In addition to all my aforementioned posts, there is the matter of the baby shower. For the most part, I understand why people are hesitant to throw a second party. After your first, you've accumulated most of the necessities, so it's not crucial to go through the whole rigmarole again to gather another pile of stuff. That being said...sometimes, especially when your children are close together, there are still things that one needs to purchase and/or duplicate. THIS IS NOT MY WAY OF HINTING THAT I WANT ANOTHER BABY SHOWER. We have bought everything we need to accommodate two kids...so please, I'm not fishing. I'm just sayin'...SOME people need the extra crap.

Anyway, so far we have received the greatest gift one could provide. Because I am 4,000 pounds and most people think I'm carrying AT LEAST two kids in my womb, I'm finding it extremely difficult to a) bend b) squat c) lift d) breath. AND, to top it off, my cleaning skills have been on a steady decline since my first child was born. So, my mother thought it was appropriate, rather than to throw some money into a stroller or a crib, to buy my family six months worth of cleaning service (er...or perhaps it was her way of telling me my house was disgusting?). Either way, I'm not sure there is a better gift in the world.

So my darling cleaning lady (who, of course, I assumed was going to be a big, hairy, fat, elderly woman...not sure where I conjured up that stereotype) came to my house for the first time a month ago and did a "deep clean". She was not hairy, fat or elderly, but rather tall, skinny and quite sweet! She was also here for NINE hours (which probably provides quite a visual of the state my home was in), and she did a fantastic job without any hitches.

The second time, however, we had a slight issue. And it wasn't her cleaning skills. As soon as she arrived, she got straight to work. She travelled to the laundry room to grab her supplies and once she was down there I heard several loud, low growls and then the sound of a baby being murdered. I instantly knew what I was hearing. My stinkin' cat. (Note to my cousin AM - stop reading here or your feline fears will only worsen)

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting my cat Floyd, here's her back story. She's 13, she's crotchety (and has been so since she was a year and a half - long story, but she basically hasn't been the same since she was fixed). About six months ago, she decided that she was going to become a recluse and live in our spare room, which was great, until we needed it for the "big boy" room. Once we started moving stuff in, she started peeing. ON EVERYTHING. The toddler bed, the closest, the rug, the curtains...whatever she could point and aim at, she hit. At that point, we had two options - 1) put her to sleep, 2) move her to another room and hope for the best. We decided (or rather I decided...I'm sure my husband is still wishing we'd chosen option #1) to move her to the storage room. It's spacious, she's closed off from our other cat (and child), and she can continue her reclusive behaviour in peace. What we all didn't count on, however, was that we would have a biweekly visitor that may throw poor ol' Floyd's schedule outta sync.

Now back to the story at hand. I heard the noise and ran down the stairs, threw open the door and found my 7 foot tall, svelte Eastern European cleaning lady cowering in a corner in the laundry room, and my 7 lb cat ready to pounce, ears back, hissing at a volume that sent my toddler crying into the other room. You can only imagine the sight!

I had to fight the cat off with a paper towel roll and lock her in the boiler room so that the cleaning lady could grab her supplies and run. She was worried that the cat had sensed her dislike for the feline species and that's what sent her into a frenzy. I don't know about that, but it's not often that I see my little kitten in such a state! I was just thankful she didn't instantly drop the windex and run screaming! Rather, she went on with her business, cleaned like a pro, and was out of the house in no time flat.

I'm telling myself that the cleaning went so quickly because of the previous "deep clean"...but I'm sure the reality of the situation is that she just wanted to get the F&$# outta my house...I haven't received any word from the cleaning service itself, but I'm crossing my fingers that she comes back. (Please come back?!?!) I suppose only time will tell! In the interim, keep your cleaning lady's number on speed dial. I may need it.

PS - Wanted to send a quick shout out to The Mullen Family who welcomed their second baby boy into the world this past week. Congrats! Charlie is just as handsome as his big bro. Can't wait to give him a squeeze!

Bigfoot Sighting in Etobicoke!

There are lots of things I understand about pregnancy. I get that ones belly expands to make room for the fetus to grown. I understand that a girl that was once called "the wall" in elementary school resembles Dolly Parton as she closes out her third trimester. I also understand that one can retain so much water/excess blood to prepare for the impending birth that some could mistake her for Jerry Lewis (you know who you are, jerk-o!). I also get the aches and pains that come along with carrying the extra weight. What I wasn't aware of was the changing of the feet size. A lot of people asked me after my toddler was born if my feet had grown, or if I'd lost my arch. I was shocked. Of course they didn't. My body expanded to accommodate the fetus and that was that. I mean, my kid was long, but he didn't reach all the way to my toes! What would be the need for my feet to expand?


Well, wouldn't you know that when I went to put my shoes on for work yesterday NOTHING would fit. I tried on 7 different pairs of shoes before I could find ones that I could squeeze my Fred Flintstoners in to. Now, you may ask yourself, as I did..."WHY THE FEET???" Is it not enough that everything else has to get bigger? Can't I just hang on to one little bit of normalcy? Honestly? I guess it's asking too much.

With much time on my hands (being the only person in my household awake at 6am), I did a little internet searching to find out why I am being punished so. This is what I found:

(From www.babycenter.com/404_i-think-my-feet-have-grown-is-this-possible-9428.com)

"The aptly named pregnancy hormone relaxin, which loosens the joints around your pelvis so your baby can make his way down the birth canal, also loosens the ligaments in your feet, causing the foot bones to spread. Your foot bones aren't actually growing - it's just that the ligaments that hold these 26 bones together aren't as tight as they were".

Okay, obviously this little beaner didn't get the memo that he/she didn't NEED to make its way down the birth canal this time ...therefore the Relaxin technically wasn't necessary. So, in addition to my stomach not ever being as tight as it once was, and my boobs becoming deflated rocks in socks, I now have to count my feet on my list of body parts that will never look the same after birth. Ugh! To make matters worse, the foot growth is permanent. I can't head to the gym postpartum to get my feet back in shape. Nope. It doesn't work that way. Once a bigfoot, always a bigfoot.

Now, after doing my research on "Pregnancy Foot Growth", I was curious as to what other fun things I may get to encounter this time around... those include (but are NOT limited to):

* Teeth problems (I experienced this during pregnancy #1 and was thankful that my husband's benefits covered my two root canals, 1 gum graft and 11 fillings. It could've been a VERY costly affair! I can't wait to see what I get this time around!)

* Skin discoloration/acne (I haven't experienced this one yet, thankfully, but with a little less than 8 weeks to go, I won't count myself safe just yet!)

* Thicker (...and then thinning) hair (I'm not sure I ever had the "thick" portion of this, but I can tell you that I was pulling out clumps of hair like it was going out of style shortly after the birth of my son)

* Leg cramps (Check!)

* Butt pain (Apparently there are occasions when a women's bum gets pins and needles during pregnancy if the fetus is sitting in a certain position and pinching certain nerves. Needless to say, I've (so far) been spared this literal pain in the ass.)

AND LAST, BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST:

* Varicose vaginal veins (Good Lord! Even if I had the capacity to get my eyes down to that location at this point, I'm not sure what I'd even be looking for. Sounds gross, so I'm quite happy to pretend like I never even read that!)


Now, there is always a silver lining to any black cloud, right? And you ladies out there know where I'm going with this...With big feet comes big shoes! I get to buy a whole new shoe wardrobe! Move over Imelda Marcos, cuz I'm ready to rock! So, when I bat my doe eyes at my husband as he passes me his overused Mastercard, all I can say is, "It's not my fault. The baby's making me do it!"

Visiting Hours are OVER! (and they never even started!)

Last week friends of ours had their first baby (after 28 hours of labour...!!!!) and we received the quintessential email introducing their new bundle of joy, Alexander, to the world. What really struck a chord with me was how they ended their message:

"We will be taking the next few days for the three of us to relax but look forward to seeing everyone soon."

Now, if you ask me, that's my kinda email. Basically telling people, thanks, but no thanks. We're tired and we wanna chill, so...

And I can totally respect that. When I was in the hospital with my son I had visitors morning, noon and night. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my family and friends. I really do...but I felt like I had NO privacy at all. Now, of course, there were extenuating circumstances surrounding the birth of my son. First of all, I'm half Italian, and my Italian side is BIG and I think it's a sign of respect to come and visit the baby and mother in the hospital. I get that. But when your family is as big as mine, the room has a tendency to become a revolving door of Nonnas, Zias and Zios, second cousins once removed, etc. You get the point. Needless to say, there wasn't a lot of time to catch my breath, or take a pee (and trust me, after a c-section, it takes about a hundred years to make one's way from the craftmatic bed to the bathroom). I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm not at all. I just think that next time, I'll ask la famiglia to wait until we get home to make their "visitas".

In addition to just having a big family, my grandmother was visiting from Italy and she obviously wanted to come and visit the baby. And who could really take that away from her? There's only so many opportunities to meet your great-grandchildren, right?

My son was also the first grandchild in both my husband's and my family, so of course, we had lots of visits from both of those sides too. And, it doesn't help that I worked across the street from the hospital that I delivered in, so we had many well wishers who were "in the area". Granted, mine wasn't just the regular 24 hour hospital stay that those lucky vaginal birthers get. I had a full blown 5 night, 4 day stay at the Radisson Mt. Sinai. Four of those nights were shared with a woman who spent the evening crying because her husband left her on her own with a cesarean and no help. So, with no rest at night and days filled with loving and wonderful visitors, I felt like I needed to get home just to get a break and a wink of sleep.

This time around I have a feeling it won't necessarily be the same experience. The novelty has worn off. Plus, both immediate families will have their hands full sharing toddler babysitting duties (although if I could pick any visitor in the world to be at the hospital with me, it'd be my baby #1!)...So without sounding rude, ungrateful, disrespectful, unappreciative, ungracious and all the like, please...let my family rest in the hospital. There will be plenty of time to fawn over my beautiful beaner when we get home, trust me! But if I'm lonely in the hospital, don't be surprised to get a phone call. You'll be ready to jump in the car, right?

Bah-Humbug!

The hormonal changes that happen in a pregnant woman's body are ridiculous. We can go from crying to happy to more angry than you could ever imagine...and all these emotions happen within seconds of each other. My husband has been a champ dealing with my Jekyll and Hyde behaviour, but other people aren't always so understanding. I found that my biggest challenge during pregnancy #1 was with the elderly in the grocery store. It usually involved a showdown of who was more deserving at the front of the line. As some of you may remember, I once almost took down a 70 year old woman for budding in front of me in the grocery store while I was buying Chewy Chips Ahoy. And when I say "almost took down", I mean it. There was a screaming match at the checkout and I asked her for her I.D. because I said she was using her age to take advantage of a hungry pregnant woman. Sure, I had SERIOUS issues...but you should know, you don't mess with a hungry pregnant lady! Needless to say, I won that battle, and I plan on winning any future ones.

My biggest peeve when NOT pregnant is the "Expecting Mothers" parking spots at places like Walmart and Loblaws. The sign shows a picture of a pregnant woman pushing a stroller. So, does this mean, that a woman with a stroller who is NOT pregnant is allowed to park here? Because honestly, what expectant mother pushes a stroller before her baby arrives? I might call Children's Aid on a woman who was expecting and pushing an empty pram.

When I'm not pregnant, however, I justify parking in that particular spot , because it's harder to lug a 30 pound stroller and a 30 pound toddler around than it is just lugging the 27 pound beach ball attached to my belly. Obviously, right?

But now that I am expecting #2, my anger is focused on ANYONE who isn't obviously pregnant and takes my parking spot. It's obviously reserved for me, and only me, cuz I'm the only expectant mother in the world who has a FULL stroller to push along with my big, round, discernibly pregnant abdomen. The picture is a spitting image of me, right? Look for yourself! So, there I am, belly checking every woman in the parking lot making sure they also fit the sign's profile (I'm allowed, right?). I get some weird looks to say the least! BUT boy does my blood boil when a dude in a mini-van pulls in and takes his two year old out of the vehicle. He's obviously not expecting. He's OBVIOUSLY not a MOTHER!!! Where does he get off????

And DON'T GET ME STARTED on the elderly (the anger always comes full circle!) mistaking the "expectant mothers" parking spot for the "handicap parking" spot (these spots are conveniently located immediately beside each other at my favourite shopping locations). When I have to park miles away from the store and I see a big, brown Cadillac with a handicap sign displayed in the windshield and NO CAR SEAT in the back, I have to hold myself back from kicking the headlights in. Is that bad?

My goal in this post is to plead with the parking lots of Canada to have standardized signs for:

Expectant Moms

Families with Kids

AND

Handicap Parking

Each sign is the same in EVERY location. NO sign is open to interpretation. And every sign is monitored by a angry, belly checking lady/watchdog. I'm available and fully qualified, you know...plus, I am in desperate need of an outlet for my anger.

Bring On The Baby!

So, my Mother's Day hangover begins...Too much reflection = trouble. I was sitting in the basement thinking about how exciting it will be to finally meet the little peanut growing in my belly when I realized that the majority of the time I was pregnant with peanut #1, I fretted. I worried about how good a mom I was going to be. I worried about how my husband and I would deal with the impending change. I worried about not knowing how to care for an infant. I worried about birth defects, Down Syndrome and low fetal birth weight, . I worried about eating too much. I worried about eating too little. I worried about the choice between raising a child vegetarian or not, about circumcision or no circumcision. I worried about being a worrier. Honestly, it was endless. This time around I don't feel like I have that issue. I know that my husband and I will be good parents. I know that we are able to handle any curve balls thrown our way. I know that I can feed a child 3 times a day plus snacks without forgetting. I know that our first born and "spirited" child has broken us in for anything and everything.

So, what's left for me to worry about? I'm not really sure. Instead of dwelling on all the first-time parental worries, am I just looking for things to worry about? Trust me, if you need me to worry, I can do it...Will this baby is easier, and if so, will I resent my first (so horrible to think, isn't it?). If this baby is more difficult (Please GOD, help me!) will I regret how I dealt with my first?

HOWEVER, I feel like this time around I'm more open to enjoying the adventure, rather than drowning in it. I'm aware of what sleep deprivation is (oh, am I aware!), and I know what to expect. I have a feeling that this is why firstborns have a tendency to be more uptight than their younger siblings (no offense to those firstborns out there). Do parents chill out when their second, third, fourth (and if you're nuts...beyond) come around? I've heard rumours that you'll let your third kid juggle knives, but I always thought it was because you were stretched so thin you just couldn't pay attention, not that you knew nothing would happen.

Luckily, as I hit the 8 week mark, I'm more focused on what it will be like to finally hold this little beaner in my arms. Will the baby look like me, my husband, or my switched-at-birth toddler? In a little less than 2 months all of my questions will be answered and this time, I can't wait to face them head on!

Buona Festa Della Mamma!

I would be remiss if I didn't post a blog on the one day that is dedicated to one of the most difficult jobs in the world, BEING A MOM! And I can't lie... I take advantage of this day to the best of my ability. Luckily I have a beautiful son and wonderful husband who make this day a treat!

As previously posted, my favourite gift is sleep and it was one that was appreciatively given! My husband pounced out of bed this morning when he heard the first grumblings of my toddler. He whisked him downstairs to keep him relatively quiet so that I could enjoy my morning of jobless bliss. And, of course, on the day when sleep is handed to me on a silver platter...I CAN'T SLEEP!!! I sat in bed for 20 minutes begging my body to fall back asleep...but the pregnant bladder calls, and that's one call that CAN NOT go unanswered. Once you're outta bed and the morning light is out, it's a recipe for disaster. Needless to say, the gift was greatly appreciated (and I'd LOVE a raincheck, hint, hint!)

So, once I was "up", off to the shower I went, but as all of you mothers know, once a child learns to turn a door handle, privacy goes the way of Elvis and leaves the building! With soap in my eyes, I was "gently" interrupted by my little one demanding that I open his gift. "In a minute" was NOT an option. Thankfully my husband pulled out the toothbrush (which is a new, favourite activity - for the child, not the adult!) and gave me a few minutes to wash the conditioner out of my hair and dry off.

So, I opened my gift, with lots of help from my wee man and we all hopped into the car for a delicious breakfast of french toast slathered in caramel, strawberries, maple syrup and frozen yogurt (yes...frozen yogurt). To top it off, sleep blessed me for two and a half hours this afternoon! Could I really have asked for a better day? The answer is NEGATIVE.

As the sun goes down, and the day comes to a close, it's hard to not sound cheesy and reflect, not only on my role as a mom (and mom to be!) but also on those moms that are close to me. Firstly, I'm so thankful to have my Mother-in-law, who makes my life a heck of a lot easier. She comes (free of charge!) not once, but twice a week, waking up at the crack of dawn just to drive all the way down to our place and watch our little guy while we both go to work. Never once does she complain! How lucky are we????

And how could I let a Mother's Day pass without sending a big shout-out to my own Mom, who spent most of my thirty odd years being a single parent. My husband and I struggle at the best of times and we're working on two incomes and four hands! I don't know how you did it, Mom!!! Love you lots!

And to all my lady friends out there, some who have been mothers for decades, and some who have been moms for days. There are those who are moms to one and those who are moms to, two, three and can you believe it, even four! (You guys are crazy!!!!) You're all amazing! Happy Mother's Day. I hope you all enjoyed your day as much as I did!

Bootie and the Blowfish

In the journey to save my body from disrepair after the pending birth of baby number two, I've registered myself for pre/post natal aquafit. I realize that in the grand scheme of things (not to mention the amount of food that my body is ingesting) one evening a week of "mild" exercise, probably isn't enough to do the trick, but it's a start right?

So, as you can imagine, the class is filled with big, ballooning pregnant women, each of us at different stages of our pregnancy. We are all different sizes and have different aches and pains, but we all have one thing in common. We are all uncomfortable in our pregnant skin.

Women, on the best of days, HATE HATE HATE being in a bathing suit in front of other women. And, be honest, ladies, when you see another woman in a their swimwuit you are SIZING THEM UP! It's okay. We all do it. We need to assess other women's flaws so that we feel a bit better about ourselves. Unfortunately there is always that one girl who doesn't have an ounce of cellulite on her body. She's fit and firm. Her boobs are perky, her bum is perfect and her stomach is flat as a board. Even if you're in a room filled with morbidly obese women, if this girl walks in you instantly feel terrible about yourself.

Well guess what?? That girl is in my pre/post natal aquafit class! Now, you may ask yourself, how is there a woman with the body of Gisele in a pre/post natal aquafit class? Trust me...every Friday at 7pm, I ask myself the same question. Now, of course, I don't talk to her (because I'm too busy cursing her in my head) so I have NO idea what her situation is. I did, however, overhear that she has 3 (YES ...I SAID THREE!) kids. Now, how unfair is that?????? AND not only is her body perfect, but she has the audacity to wear a freakin' bikini to class. C'mon lady. WE GET IT! You're hot! Trust me...we're jealous! We all aspire to look like you and none of us will. Don't rub it in our faces. Be nice! We're hormonal! We're stretched to our limits! We all feel like blimps! You're not making it ANY EASIER!

So my question is this: When a course says that it's pre/post natal...how "post" natal can you be to qualify? Obviously the obstetrician recommends that you don't start an exercise routine (not that this is really considered exercise) before your six week post natal checkup...so that's a good starting point. BUT...where does it end? Is my Grandmother a candidate? I mean, she had her last kid 44 years ago, but technically she's still "post" natal, right? But even my Grandmother has the sense to sign up for regular senior citizen aquafit...so what's wrong with this chick? Isn't there a supermodel hot body aquafit class that she can register for? JEEZ!

The one good thing that I take from this experience is that it may really be possible that one can look this good six months after giving birth to a child...So, although I'd love to "slip" on the wet deck of the swimming pool and knock this woman's teeth out, I'll instead use her as a goal to what I would like to look like in 8 months time. No pressure, right?

Ka-CHING!

So one of my jobs over the next couple of weeks is to get the nursery back in order. My husband and I have successfully transitioned our toddler from the crib to the "big boy" bed, which is a relief, so now it's time to move on to job #2. We're keeping the nursery as is (thankfully!), but now we have to start the shopping to make sure we have everything that we need. It's a matter of figuring out what the little man still needs and what we have to buy in duplicate. Now this only becomes more complicated when, in a matter of months, our son may outgrow a lot of the things he's still using. So, do we spend the cash now, or just cross our fingers and hold out until he decides he doesn't need stuff anymore?



My list is as follows:



1) Double stroller - Of course one of the costliest of the purchases we will have to make. We currently own a single travel system (where the car seat buckles into the stroller) and wanted to not have to buy a new car seat (which is also quite expensive)...so we were on a mission to find a double stroller that fit our car, our car seat and budget... I was about to resort to this:

and thankfully CRAIGSLIST called! We did a quick jaunt down the street to pick up a lightly used (for only three months!) double stroller (in the exact same make/model and colour as our original) for $200 less than the store price. I can hear my husband's wallet exhaling as we speak!

2) Playpen - This is on my "yet to purchase" list because I'm still in the process of figuring out if it's a worthwhile buy. Although my son is technically in a "big boy" bed, he is still an EXTREMELY restless sleeper. I'm afraid that if we put him in a proper bed, rather than the toddler bed that he's used to, he'll roll out. So, do we keep the playpen that we have and hope that he'll outgrow the restlessness before we have to do a sleepover? Do I buy another playpen and keep it "just in case"... or do I bite the bullet and buy some travelling bed rails that we can keep in storage until we need them? NO CLUE.

3) Monitor - Is the world made for one child? I just don't get it. I've been trying to track down a unit that can "monitor" two kids at once. Is that really a challenge? Any monitor that I've seen has one "child unit" and two "parent units"...Like, honestly, do you really need two parents to be listening for the same kid? And most of the time monitors are battery operated, so they're portable, which means you don't need to set them up in multiple rooms...I just don't really understand. My fear is that we invest in another monitor/parent unit and it interferes with the original, making both units completely useless (I'm saying unit WAAAAAAAAAAAY too much). What to do? Maybe I should just save my sanity and not listen to either kid...could work, right?

4) Air purifier - Now, I understand that this is more of a luxury than a necessity, but it's proven to be a lifesaver for our son. He's such a light sleeper and the air purifier acts, not only as what it's originally intended for, but also as a noise machine, filtering out any unwanted/unnecessary noises and allows him to (on the odd occasion) sleep through the night. I've also read that having an air purifier in a baby's room lessens the chance that a baby would die from SIDS. That being said, I'd like to have one in the nursery, but there's NO WAY IN HELL I'm going to take my son's away from him and risk him waking up at every cough or sneeze in the middle of the night. These are generally not cheap, so I'm starting to see the dollar signs adding up here.

5) Brace yourself for the biggest and most expensive purchase on the list...NEW CAR - Yes, I said it. New car (NOT MINI VAN...so don't get excited!). Now this is also a pipe dream more than a reality, but it's something that's been weighing on our minds since we realized I was pregnant for the second time. Although our car has suited us fine over the past two years, it does have several quirks that may or may not be worth working around. Because my husband and I are of above average height, we both need quite a bit of leg room. Our leg room, however, takes away room from the backseat. This posed a bit of a problem when we first brought baby #1 home, because the passenger seat needed to be pulled forward to accommodate the rear-facing car seat. Anyone in the front passenger seat over 5'6" was resting their chins on their knees. So, comfort was a bit of an issue there. Luckily we were able to work around it and someone could always sit in the back with the baby. This time, we won't have that luxury. With both back seats occupied by children someone is gonna be cramped...and because my husband is 5 inches taller than I am, that someone is gonna be me. Now, can I suffer through it for a year, until we can flip the car seat from rear-facing to forward facing? Probably. I'll be a martyr and sacrifice a little bit of comfort. Unfortunately, we're running into the problem where my eldest is taking after Mommy and Daddy and growing a pair of long legs himself. Now, sure, they're long enough that they can bend at the knee and hang down in the space provided, but he has this fascination with kicking and pushing his feet into the back of the driver's seat. I don't want to sound like the Princess and the Pea, but it's freakin' uncomfortable. So, you can see my dilemma. If we buy a car that has a little bit more rear seat leg room, we can eliminate all the issues above. However, if we buy a car, we raise the issue that our monthly expenses will go up exponentially (and on only one income for 12 months, that may present to be a stretch, especially with another bum to diaper and mouth to feed!)

Now, this list obviously doesn't include things like toiletries, clothes, diaper pail and all that jazz, but I've eliminated the small stuff on the list to save space. If, however, you readers can think of anything else that I'm missing (or anything that I can scratch off the list because it's unnecessary) PLEASE send me your thoughts. I'm completely oblivious to how much our lives will change in the next two months...bring me back to reality!

Cuts Like A Knife...But It Feels So Right?

So, today I had a prenatal visit with my obstetrician. Surprisingly I have only gained 2 pounds in the last week. (I was especially surprised considering the Jabba the Hut type behaviour I've been exhibiting over the last few days...er...weeks). Now I can feel a bit better about the previous 8 pounds in 14 days that I gained at the last visit.

Unfortunately, I did receive a little bit of disappointing news as well. My doctor explained to me that the baby was breech (which I was made aware of when I visited the labour and delivery department 3 weeks ago for some unexplained spotting) but that the baby's position wasn't a big deal because I'd opted for an elective c-section. So off we went to book my caesarean...and much to my chagrin there were no available spots the week of my due date and my obstetrician is away on vacation the week before. I was shocked!!! Why was this left so late? Why didn't we book as soon as I had my first appointment? What did this mean?

Even if I wanted to have a standard delivery, unless my baby miraculously turns in the next 9 weeks (which it conceivably could since the fetus doesn't technically assume the "birthing position" until sometime between the 34th and 36th week), I'm stuck with the operation no matter what.

So...what, pray tell, can I do to coax this little beaner to flip upside down? From the research that I've done, it seems a little bit ridiculous, but here are some options (suggestions paraphrased from http://www.wearsthebaby.com/askce/cebreech.html) :

* Mom lays on her back and raises her bottom about 15 inches off the floor, with some help from some pillows, of course. (So...I'm doing it now. Do I not move until I go into labour? Or should I just be doing it for 10 minutes a day? I assume it means somewhere in between, but it's obviously open to interpretation)

*Another option is for mom to get into an extreme knee-chest position. The point is to get the hips higher than the head so the force of gravity will encourage the baby to move up out of the pelvis and into a more favorable position. (Okay, I don't know about you, but the likelihood that I can get my knees anywhere close to my chest with this 27 pound medicine ball attached to my midsection is slim to none..HELLO???)

* Place headphones near the pubic bone and play music to encourage the baby to turn (I can't even bring myself to comment on this one...)

* Have dad talk to the baby near mom's pubic bone (My poor husband! Last pregnancy he was relegated to the terrible perineal massage and now this...how humiliating... Love you, honey!!!!)

So...it sounds like my three options are as follows...1) go into labour and beg for the physician-on-call to rip me open, 2) cross my fingers that someone who's already booked their c-section goes into labour before their scheduled date and a spot opens up for me or 3) the Matthews' family coercive power (and of course fetal compliance...) flips this munchkin on it's lid and I can deliver the baby the old fashion way (OUCH!!!!!!)... So, all of your reading this measly blog...PLEASE SEND ME ALL YOUR KARMIC VIBES FOR OPTION NUMBER 2..........pretty please??????

Special shout outs to Strahan and Heather - congratulations on the birth of baby Avery last night! Let me know how having 2 stacks up! Also, sending quick and painless delivery vibes to Brian and Lauren who could possibly be introducing their first baby into the world this very moment!

Boys Against Girls

Have you heard of the phrase "Million Dollar Family". I wasn't 100% of the meaning, so I, of course, wiki'd it (did I just use that as a verb????) and this is what I came up with: "...derives from the similar terms "rich man's family" or "choix du roi" One son--to inherit and rule the estate...no brothers are needed to work the fields or run the business (because you're rich) so best deal is not to have second and third sons who will not receive a birthright and will skulk around, envious, making trouble. One daughter--to marry a powerful ally's son and spread your power and influence."

There isn't a day that goes by that people don't ask me: "Do you know what you're having?" and when I say "No", they ask "Don't you want a girl?" because I have a little boy at home. The answer is always the same. "I don't care what I have." And that's the truth.

My choice to keep the sex of baby #2 unknown stems from the labour and subsequent emergency delivery of baby #1. When I was pregnant the first time, I envisioned that my labour would be painful, of course, but I'd get through it without drugs, and then once the little one was born they'd pass to the baby to me, announce the sex and my husband and I would be surprised and elated.

The reality was this...I tried to be a martyr for 12 hours and then finally begged for the epidural, and after half an hour of pushing and two emergency visits from every physician in the hospital because the baby's heart rate dropped, my obstetrician decided to do a c-section. As I was waiting for the anesthesiologist to prep me, the baby's heart rate dropped again, and they immediately started cutting me open (epidural completely worn off by this point, hence the anesthesiologist prepping me)...when I brought my pain to their attention, they knocked me out. When I woke up (after vomiting on the nurse, my mother and my bra strap), they handed me the baby, and my husband told me (repeatedly - like 45 times - and each time I was as surprised as the first time!) "It's a boy". Not exactly what fairy tales are made from.

This time, I've opted to have a planned c-section (to avoid repeating the story above), so that I can ensure that it's slightly closer to my "dream delivery" (if there was such a thing). I'd love to be at least moderately lucid when the baby comes out and I'd like to be surprised (only once) when the doctor tells me what the sex is.

I have NO inkling as to what the sex of this baby might be. Science, statistics and the Chinese Lunar Calendar point to girl, fetal heart rate points to boy (for someone who doesn't want to know the sex of their baby I sure have done a lot of research...?) and everyone and their mother has an opinion on how I'm carrying. Still, I truly don't have a preference, although it does weigh on my mind.

My practical side thinks that if I have another boy, it will be smooth sailing. My husband and I already have experience with boys. They might be rough with each other but aren't they more likely to share similar interests as they get older and more likely to have a stronger bond as they mature? (My husband comes from a family of two boys and he and his brother are like two peas in a pod). AND, I have about 3,000 plastic containers FILLED to the brim with boys clothes. My fear with two boys is that the younger one will always feel like he's being compared to the older, which isn't fair, but maybe not completely avoidable? Two active boys under 3? YIKES!

On the other hand, if we have a girl my husband and I will be thrown into a world of inexperience. Sure, people tell me that girls are much more laid back as children, but lord help us once she hits her teens! (I know my mom is secretly hoping I have a girl just to experience a millionth of the exhaustion I caused her from the age of 13-21!), plus, then I have to buy new toys and new clothes! Cha-ching! Also, because of the different sexes, will the two kids have much in common? Will my son bully my daughter?

In the long run, does it really matter? Will I love a boy more or less than a girl? Never. There are no guarantees in life - whether same sex or not, these siblings could love or hate each other, have everything in common or nothing, be close or distant, feel inferior or superior. I'll just be happy to have healthy, well-adjusted (as well-adjusted as my offspring could possibly be) kids whether my family is worth a million dollars or not.

The Wish of One Pregnant Lady

Sleep. That's basically what it boils down to. All I want to do, morning, noon and night is sleep. And, of course, I'm getting NONE.

When I was young (God! Am I already starting stories like this???) I used to pride myself on how little sleep I needed to get by. Even when my two year old was born, people used to say to me "just nap when he naps"...and I thought "as if!" My body would NOT nap when there was light out (which in the long run started me spiraling downward into my pit of sleep deprivation).

In the past 25 months, my son has NEVER slept well. I keep waiting for that elusive and permanent "sleep through the night"...but he usually tricks me with a few consecutive nights in a row, only to throw me off when he's up every twenty minutes. And, as most of you moms know, being blessed with Mommy Hearing doesn't help the situation. I generally wake up when my son (who's in his room, door closed, air purifier on max volume) shifts positions - because, you know, he may get tangled in his blanket, or his panda may suffocate him in the middle of the night...? Completely and totally illogical, I know, but it can't be helped.

Now, I've heard two schools of thought when it comes to a second pregnancy and any possibility of finding sleep. #1 - Have your kids as close together as possible - you get all your nights sans sleep out of the way at once. #2 - Have your kids far enough apart that one child is sleeping through the night and you can devote all your sleeplessness to one. Of course, in my "planning" of this second child, I figured there would be NO WAY my eldest would still be up a hundred times a night at this stage, but with 9 1/2 weeks to go and two days straight of being up ALL NIGHT LONG a la Lionel Richie, I'm beginning to wonder if my choice was the right one.

I suppose it's also completely beside the point that I have been SO exhausted this pregnancy. From the beginning I've napped when my little one has napped, and even then I feel that it's not been enough. As a birthday gift, my husband stayed home from work and let me sleep in. And it was honestly the best present I got! This weekend, I sat down to readjust the couch pillows and woke up an hour and a half later when my husband and toddler returned from the park and knocked on the door.

I just wonder, once the new baby gets here, will I be blessed with the infamous second baby sound sleeping syndrome (please, please, please!) or will my strong light sleeping genes be passed down to not one, but two of my offspring. Only time will tell. Until then, I'm going to be sneaking naps every chance I can get. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz