Nosey Rosy

 

     Everyone has or at least should have that one friend that will tell you when you have a stain on your shirt in that area under your boobs that you can't see, that those skinny jeans you thought made your butt look so great gives you camel toe in the front, that you need to pluck those 2 random chin hairs.....AND when you have a rogue nose hair permanently sticking out of your left nostril.  -Don't you all be sitting there going "eww gross chin and nostril hair" you know you have had a stray or 2 of your own and the further past 30 you get the more appear.  You aren't fooling anyone pretending you haven't.

     Chesty McBreasty is that friend for me.  Unfortunately life has been pretty busy for both of us lately and we haven't spent nearly enough time together lately -much to the relief of Papa Bear and Manuel the Mexican Gardener (whom is neither Mexican nor a gardener).  Thankfully the youth soccer association of Stinkburg has allowed us to reunite for an hour and a half (would be 2 hours but Chesty time runs about half hour behind) weekly by putting 2 of our kids on the same team (her to play the game and mine to pretend).

    I think it only took about 5 minutes of Chesty sitting next to me in our traditional Soccer Mom issue folding camp chairs for her to turn to me and make me aware of a Nosey Rosy the Rogue Nose Hair's presence.  While I pulled at it and rubbed at it trying to brush it away and then tried to shove it back inside the nostril, Chesty made the conclusion that Rosy was indeed attached and not going anywhere.  She was later removed with a pair of tweezers in front of my bathroom mirror while Wee One looked on asking a million questions about what I was doing.

     So, with that taken care of I just have to ask those that see me on a regular basis, "WTF?  I'm so sure you have been letting me walk around with hair sticking out of my nose for who knows how long!"  That sucker was long so I know ol' Nosey Rosy has been with me for a while.  I'm not entirely sure how I missed her myself other than the fact I don't do a lot of time in front of the mirror with my glasses on which I suppose I should start to do but these people see my face a million times more than I do.  Are they having a conversation with me and staring at Rosy hanging there waving at them?  Did they assume the first time they noticed her that she wasn't attached and then the next time they saw me that I had another unattached hair hanging from the same nostril and then again?

    I suppose some would claim they are too polite to say anything.  I think it is more polite to let someone know about something like that than let them go through their day to day business with an unknown friend saying hello to everyone they talk to face to face in a day!  I'm not asking you to broadcast the issue or point and shout or anything like that but "Hey Stace, you've got something a little freaky going on there" next time would be good.  I would do it for you -you know I would.  Thanks in advance folks.

Anxiety of a New Level

   

     Normally I blog about things as they happen but for some reason I didn't share this story when it happened.  I have retold the story a few times now and realize I should have just blogged it in the first place.

     It wasn't until 4 weeks and 1 day before my expected due date that I finally got an appointment with the doctor that is supposed to deliver this baby.    She is the same doctor that delivered my last 2 boys and typically I would have seen her a few times by that point.  Since it was a little later than usual and I hadn't seen my family doctor in over a month there were a few (unpleasant) things that needed to be done.  With that stuff done she goes through the rest of the appointment like normal and tells me to make an appointment for every Thursday until the week after my due date.  Then she springs on me that she is going on vacation for 2+ weeks and I will have to see her resident Dr. Boy for my next 2 appointments....  I know I've been through this whole birth thing 3 times already but no pregnant women likes surprises -especially at this point in a pregnancy.  Her vacation not only means that I will not be seeing her for 2 appointments but it also means she will not be delivering my baby if I go into labour in the next couple of weeks which is quite possible.  Let the anxiety soar!

     I left the appointment feeling anxious and a bit stressed.  Between the hour plus wait sitting in pregnancy unfriendly chairs, the news that my doctor very well could be away when I went into labour and that I was going to have my next to visits with Dr. Boy instead......Wait a minute....I didn't meet Dr.  Boy.  No face visual, no introduction, no handshake, nothing and I'm expected to let this dude all up in my business next week?  Welcome to another level of anxiety!

     When the appointment with Dr. Boy (He gets the alias of Dr. Boy as he looks to be almost old enough to grow a beard.  Until you can grow a beard you are a boy) finally came I was a bit relieved.  Dr.  Boy was really nice and not "hot" -there is nothing worse than a really great looking doctor when you are there for appointments below the waist.  The blushing and stuttering just seems to make the whole experience that much worse.  He was very professional and the appointment didn't seem so unlike that of my usual doctor.

     He measured my bump and felt around to see the position of the baby.  Then he got out his stethoscope to listen for the baby's heartbeat.  He set the scope and listened, set the scope again and listened, set the scope again and listened, set the scope and listened, gave the baby a little poke and listened, poked the baby again and listened, gave the baby a little shove and listened, another shove and listened, yet another shove and listened.  This went on for what seemed like forever....  Through all this poking and shoving going on, my usually extremely active baby didn't budge a smidgen... At least if the baby were wiggling around I would just know it was Dr. Boy's issue and not a problem.  I could feel my own heart rate pick up, my cheeks start to get hot.  I could feel myself start to sweat and basically about to $hit a brick.  Finally I couldn't stand it anymore and I looked at him and said "Dude, you are freaking me out!"
He looked back and said "ummm I'm going to go get the doppler".
"I think that would be a really good idea." -You think?!
...and I reached a new level of anxiety I didn't even know existed.

     When he returned with the doppler and started probing around again things were not much better and it still took him forever to find the heartbeat but he did eventually find it.  Apparently the baby was laying in a weird position that was making it hard to get to an area where the heartbeat is easy to get....and apparently having one hell of a good sleep to have remained so still through the poking and pushing he was getting.

     I think Dr. Boy and baby Cuatro were in on a practical joke together.  Dr. Boy said "I'll pretend like I have no idea what the heck I'm doing, you just lay there and don't move a muscle and we'll see how long it takes before she completely loses her $hit.  It will be hilarious."  Yeah, really effing hilarious...

Times a Tickin'

   

When Papa Bear talked me into trying for Baby #4 (I wanted to make a cheesecake, he wanted to make a baby) we made a deal.  The deal was that Papa Bear would complete the not yet started renovation on our back room and make it into an office/bear cave to free up the room that was currently our office to use for the baby.  It was agreed that this renovation would be complete by Little Bear's birthday which was at the beginning of March.

     Papa Bear is the definition of procrastination.  It is now the middle of May and less than 3 weeks from Baby #4's due date.... We do not have a complete office and we do not have a complete (or even started) nursery.  You can imagine how incredibly happy this makes me.   It's not like I can renege on my half of the agreement.  We are currently waiting on carpet that I ordered yesterday for the back room.  The crib and dresser and other assorted baby items are scattered throughout my living room in the meantime.  This also makes me very unhappy.  We women do this thing called "nesting" in the final weeks of pregnancy where we go completely crazy cleaning and reorganizing our homes in preparation for the little one on the way.  The state of chaos that is my home at this moment is really standing in the way of my nesting and trust me, this house is in need of some serious nesting.

    To make matters worse, instead of helping me to empty the nursery of our office contents, Papa Bear woke up and decided that he would lay the tile in our mud room that I purchased 4 or so years ago.  Not only does this choice tie up Papa Bear from helping me but it means my washer and dryer are unhooked and moved into another room making them useless until the tile job is complete.  Papa Bear has been at it for almost 4 hours and has less than a quarter of the tiles laid.  Taking into consideration his pace and the amount of work still required to finish I should have my washer and dryer back in commission by.....I don't know....July!

    Times a tickin' and I'm pretty sure you are not supposed to put road blocks like this in front of a nesting mother.  I'm pretty sure bad things will happen -like a new swear word is invented or she just goes bad $hit crazy which is where I think I'm headed.  I don't know how much more I can take and I just know that this little peanut is in my uterus going "I am totally coming before my due date just to screw with her".   No name, no nursery and a mother that is only inches from the nut house -not a great way to start out.  I would just stay put if I were you little mister.

Game Time

   Who doesn't love a good ol' game of Where the Eff is That Noise Coming From at 2am?  Me, that's who.  Especially since I haven't been able to get more than a few hours of sleep a night in months.  However, there I was, laying wide awake in bed questioning my sanity as I was sure I was hearing a high pitched chirping noise piercing the quiet in about 1 minute intervals.

   I was laying there thinking, "I am hearing that right? It's not the wind blowing something outside or something dumb like that right?"  

I look beside me and Papa Bear hasn't flinched.  Not surprising since he has made it clear over and over again that he is half deaf and doesn't listen.  This fact is made evident by times when Little Bear asks a question like, "did you get dog food?" 

and Papa Bear responds with something like, "Adopted?!"

Anyway, after deciding I was indeed hearing it and that it sounded like the familiar sound of a smoke detector with a dying battery I poked the bear and told him to find the source since he was supposed to have just checked and changed batteries in all the detectors at Daylight Savings time.

   So Papa Bear proceeds to stumble around the house like a drunken teenager on prom night and standing under each smoke detector (since the we built the addition to our house we have quite a few, like 5 or 6 I think) and listening for the chirp.  He came back to bed and declares the sound is coming from our room and I'm going to have to find it.  How the hell could it be coming from our room?  We don't have a smoke detector in our room or anything else that should be making a similar sound.  Up I get and morph into Sherlock Holmes mode and do the Walk 3 Steps, Listen shuffle.

     After a few minutes I had the sound isolated to our en-suite bathroom.  "It's coming from in here!  I whisper yell to Papa who drunk stumbles into the bathroom with me and we stand and listen....  I can hear it.  I just can't find the source.  Like  a crazy person I start digging through the vanity and dropping my 4 weeks from delivery pregnant body to the floor to peer underneath it to see if I can find what is keeping me awake at this hour.  Still can't find it.

     Finally I start on the vanity drawers.  Now, in my drawer on my side of the vanity you will find things like my hair brush, hair ties, facial wipes, my makeup bag a few pieces of assorted jewellery -you know the sort of thing that SHOULD be in the bathroom.  On Papa Bear's side, if you open his drawer you will find his electric razor, earphones, pens, pencils, a pack of gum, an old cell phone, sink and tap manuals, an old grocery list, a handful of change, a few random pieces of hardware and shoved to the very back....1 old smoke detector with a blinking light and chirping in 1 minute intervals....that was all but whipped at him by a very sleep deprived, very fat and bloated, very bitchy pregnant lady at 2:35 in the mutha loving morning.

     "Now tell these folks what they've won for playing our game tonight Jim!"

"Well Bob, they've just won.....a very rough Friiiiiiiiiiiday with no possibility of a nap!"
.....Awesome.....

25,000 Hits Baby!

I Scream For Ice Cream

I'm not sure if Papa Bear has a death wish or just pure evil.  I've never thought of him as evil so death wish is most likely.
   
    Tonight he had a meeting to attend and left me to do showers and bedtime with 4 boys (my nephew is staying with me this week as well) by myself.  No big deal.  Bedtime is a fairly well oiled machine around here even with the extra boy.  Routine is the key to sanity.

     Now here is where Papa Bear went wrong.  He asked me before he left if I wanted anything while he was in town.  I told him I would love some ice cream and since he claims the local ice cream shop closes early through the week I said a sundae from McDonalds would do I just really wanted some ice cream.  He said he would bring home the ice cream.  He also claimed the meeting would only take an hour to an hour and a half.  I knew better than that but it didn't matter if there was ice cream to look forward to.

     For the rest of the evening I thought about the ice cream Papa Bear was going to bring me.  My mouth is still watering thinking about it as I type.  I was going to have a different snack but didn't want to spoil my appetite for when my ice cream showed up.  I made the boys' lunches for school and thought about ice cream.  I tidied up the kitchen and thought of ice cream.  I tucked the boys in and thought of ice cream.  I folded laundry and thought about ice cream.  I watched The Voice and thought about ice cream.

     When I heard the back door open (3 hours later) all I could think was "Here comes my ice cream.  Oh how I love ice cream.  I can't wait to dig into that deliciously cold ice cream".  As Papa Bear walked into the room I scanned his hands for my ice cream.  No ice cream.  "Where's my ice cream?"
"McDonalds closed early due to some sort of electrical issue"
"Ummm so...where's my ice cream?"

    MOTHER LOVER!  You can not promise a very pregnant women ice cream and not follow through!  You promise ice cream you damn well better follow through.  You do not promise ice cream and come home empty handed.  You find some freaking ice cream somewhere and you bring it home to your very hormonal and ice cream craving women carrying your child!  If this means you scour the ice chest of every variety store in town, you do it!  If this means you drive to the next town to get it you go get it.  If this means you have to make it yourself, you do it but you DO NOT under any circumstances come home without some sort of ice cream!

     I will likely think about the ice cream that wasn't all night and if I actually sleep tonight I will dream about ice cream but I will not be eating any ice cream tonight.  No there will be no ice cream for me.  Papa Bear will be lucky if I forgive him for this by the time this baby I am carrying turns 18.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

While laying with Wee One in bed this morning he sings:
"M, M, I love M because my mom starts with M".
I think Awwww and then:
"P, P, I love P because Pee and Poop start with P"...oh, there's the Wee One I know...