More Pink, but feeling a bit blue

I know no one reads this blog anymore, but that's okay. Why should they - I hardly ever post anything. Just like LadyBug's baby book, I just can't seem to find time to update anything anymore. I recently realized that we didn't take any video or pictures of LB's first steps. None! That's a fairly big event and yet it slipped right past me. Poor baby#2...I can only imagine this gets worse. Of course now I know why my own baby book, as baby #4 in my family, had like three things filled out.

But, right now I need to whine. Just a little. Even if no one is there to listen. Which is probably a good thing since this is really pathetic of me. But I need to vent something. Air it out. Let it go.

We found out last week that #2 is a girl. A healthy, perfectly normal (as far as they can tell), little girl. Awesome, right? I mean this is a TRUE miracle. This is a baby that didn't cost $30K. Didn't take two + years to happen. Didn't cause undue worrying and excessive depression. This is a fantastic, wonderful, amazing gift from God. Yet, away from everyone else, usually in my car or in bed while DH sleeps, I moan. I cry. I mourn.

And here's where it's probably a good thing that no one reads this: I'm sad it's not a boy. There. I've said it. It's out. Pathetic, right? But still true.

I just always thought of myself as a "boy's mom." I don't know why. Maybe because I love football. Maybe because I want that special relationship between a boy and his mom.

But the real reason is because I'm afraid of raising girls. Raising one girl is scary enough. Actually - it is petrifying! But two? There's no WAY I'm getting out of raising two girls without at least one of them hating my guts and doing some unthinkable thing to get back at me. I just really can't stand all the drama and hormones associated with us girls. We girls are a handful and boys seem, well, much more simple.

We have a TON of girls in our family. There are three girls and a boy on my side. My brother had one son, my sisters only had girls. My husband doesn't have any siblings. In addition to my own disappointment, I can visibly tell that my extended family is disappointed. Of course they wouldn't say anything, but I can tell. So, of course, I feel like I'm letting them all down, too.

I want to buy corduroys and little ties and sweater vests. I want to decorate a room with lions and tigers and baseball stuff. I hate glitter and lace and disn.ey princesses and pink.

At the end of the day, I know that it's not about what we want or what we get, or who we let down. I KNOW that God's plan is way bigger than mine and there's a reason he gave us (BLESSED us!) with another girl. I know that I have so much to be thankful for - especially that this pregnancy has been fairly uneventful and ALL of the tests have been great. And I know there's a lot of great things about raising sisters and that there's lots of mom's out there who would die for a little girl. But. But. But. I still am sad. Just a little. I'll get over it.

Reminiscing in the Shoe Aisle

The other day I got a hall pass and went to one of my favorite places. Tarjay. For whatever reason, roaming those wide aisles jammed-packed with things I don't need but think I do, is soothing.

Enjoying my few moments of peace alone (for once!), I came to the toddler shoes. Lady Bug will certainly inherit my innate sense of style and love of all things foot related. She already has an ungodly amount of shoes and she only wears them a few times a week which is really such a shame.

I had the strangest feeling, standing there in the narrow aisle. I felt like an impostor. Like I was totally pretending that I had a 1-year old that I could buy shoes for. It seemed like everyone passing me by was giving me the hairy eyeball and thinking, "she's not a mom, she's a fake. A wannabe."

Prior to Lady Bug there were YEARS of wandering aisles. Yearning for the chance to buy a onesie or pick out a crib. Even though now it's a reality, it often doesn't feel real. I don't feel like a mom. I feel like someone playing the role of a mom, and often times not doing such a great job at it.

The old familiar feeling caught me off guard and I got big tears in my eyes which surely made some passer-by's do a double take. Because, who cries over kids shoes? Me apparently.

It's another reminder that infertility stays with you. It's a part of who you are. A piece of the puzzle that you can't just forget about.

Here Comes the Doldrums

Fall is here. In Seattle that means rain is in full session for the next nine months. Usually our Septembers are fantastic, but fall came early this year with nothing even remotely resembling our usual glorious Indian summers.

Out came the sweaters. And the socks. And the jackets. Back go the shorts, t-shirts, sandals and flip-flops. Sigh.

This crappy weather is really playing havoc with Lady Bug. She LOVES to go outside, and I've discovered it's really no fun at all to chase a 1-year old around in the rain, making sure she doesn't throw herself into a puddle or rub mud all over herself. I guess I'll have to muster up some creative indoor games.

It doesn't really help, though, when she sees the dogs going outside. She totally bangs on the door and has a big fit. She just loves being outside. Rain or shine. Unlike me who totally just wants to curl up on my bed with a blanket and a good book. Which I probably wont get to do for at least another twenty years.

We had our nuchal fold scan yesterday. Everything looked good, which was a big relief. I forgot how nerve wracking this time is. My morning sickness has eased up and I don't feel any kicking or movement, yet. It's almost like I can pretend that I've just gained some weight from eating way too much and this whole pregnancy thing is a cruel joke. Seeing the ultrasound yesterday was very reassuring. Little hands and feet moving around. They think it's a girl. Too early to know for sure, but that was our tech's guess.

This weekend will be full of chores that we didn't get done last weekend. Double sigh. Lately I've been just longing for even a few hours when I can just sit and do nothing. Just relax. With no toddlers melting down or dirty clothes to wash or dogs to smell. A woman can dream.

Pick and Paint

The nanny called me at work yesterday. There was a lot of sighing, and a definite note of irritation.

"I heard Kate on the monitor and went upstairs to get her. I found her with a handful of poop, rubbing it in her hair, on the crib, her bedding - everywhere!"

For once I was really, really, glad that I'm a working mom. It was like 90 degrees out, and her little room is really stuffy. I'm sure with my morning sickness, there would have been another color mixed into her palette.

It reminded me of that "the Nanny" episode where the little girl had a habit of reaching down her diapers and grabbing her crud and would fling it everywhere. I hope to GOD that doesn't happen.

But, in other ways, I can claim that my daughter is a "butt"ing artist. Badump-ching!

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a heartbeat

So, I weasled my way into seeing Itty Bitty doc a week early. I just could-not-stand-it another minute. Even though I am SO sick, and have been every day for the past MONTH, I had, of course, convinced myself that I was un-pregnant. That something had gone awry. That the miracle status of my womb was in fact temporary and no longer occupied with a little tiny beginning of baby #2.

But, we saw the heartbeat. We didn't hear it, but we saw it, up on the big screen, fluttering away. SIGH OF RELIEF. I know we're not totally out of the woods, but it measured the right size and there was a definite tiny little heart doing its thing. And the little black and white grainy picture the doctor gave us is on the fridge to remind us that it's there (as if my constant nausea wasn't enough).

It's all so surreal. We've told just a few people, and it's almost as if I'm watching a movie of someone else. My mom is beside herself. Can't believe it. I just pull my shirt tight around my ever expanding belly and say, "believe it!" Because I have totally popped already. I'm trying to keep everything on the down-low for another few weeks, but the muumuu shirts are kinda a dead giveaway, don't you think?

Nothing to Report Cuz I've got No Reporting

I've discovered I'm not a real fan of getting knocked-up naturally. For one, the total lack of information is just not for me. I called my OB/GYN and trumpeted my miraculous news and all I got was: "when was the first day of your last cycle? Oh...four weeks ago? Well...we won't see you for at least another month."

Wait a minute.

I must have went to at least 50 different appointments with my IVF. No joke. There was the whole pre-IVF testing, then the meds, and the training sessions for the shots, and then the actual Day Of. Then there was the post-IVF visits. I swear we were driving to our clinic every day for at a month. The testing, the blood work, the ultrasounds. Not to mention acupuncture and counseling sessions.

Now I just feel so neglected! My doctor doesn't even care about me! "We'll see you in a month!" Whaaaaa???

Don't-You-Understand-Lady?? I need information! I need to know what's goin' on down there! Shouldn't I be taking something? Anything? Shouldn't you be putting something up my netheregions and calling all your doctor friends to take a peek? Isn't there some sort of magic cocktail my husband should be injecting into my behind every night for an entire month?

It's just too easy which makes it way to disconcerting.

So. Here I sit. I have no numbers to report. I don't know how many follicles I had, how many eggs, how many embies, what my hcg levels were or are. I'm praying that this is the real deal and trying really hard to be patient. Worried that I don't have enough nausea, or that I've got too much. Or that it's disappeared altogether.

I'm trying to come up with some sort of excuse to get into the doctor earlier. I'll be starting my 10th week before I get to see her! I'll be practically into my second trimester! Ready to give birth at any moment! Maybe if I just call and beg with my whiniest voice they'll give in.

How do "normal" ladies do this? There must be some kind of stick I can pee on or monitor I can hook up to. If not, maybe I'll come up with something and make a kajillion dollars so I can actually afford #2!

Time for Number 2?

I know no one reads this thing anymore. Who would? I haven't posted in like, I don't know, two, maybe three months? For the record, here's a pic of Ladybug on her first birthday:
She's walking everywhere, and starting to say things like, "ooohhhh pretty," and "Oh Boy!" Well, at least we think that's what she's saying.

The real reason for this post? I'M PREGNANT!

It's true. I have no one to tell. So I had to tell someone. My blogger friends who no longer read my blog. But at least I have it out there.

The unbelievable actually happened. We wanted to start trying in February or March, even had the Clomid on-hand. Tried taking it in May, but DH ended up having to go out of town that weekend. The next month was Ladybugs Big Birthday Bash and we had Mom-in-law in town. So, no business besides being busy that weekend.

Then, last month, I went pee, and lo-and-behold, yes, this is TMI, I saw CEW! Seemingly impossible, I OPK'd and it came up with double lines for ovulation! This has NEVER happened. Ever. So, unbeknownst to my DH, we got down to business.

I swear, the next day, I KNEW I was pregnant. I was all crampy, I was exhausted. And this continued until 3 days before AF was due to arrive. I POS'd and WHAM that thing was positive! Crazy! Really crazy. I kept thinking: this is how it happens for most people. The most expensive thing was the test. I was so freaking out I went to Tar.get and bought another box and did them in their restrooms. Double Positive!

So, I'm freaking out. Not telling anyone but a very few close friends. Not telling my mom because her mouth is the size of Texas and she'll tell everyone she comes in contact with. And, I'm telling you, my long-lost blogging buddies.

It's Snot Funny

LadyBug has had a cold for eight weeks. Eight! Don't worry, I took her to the doc after three weeks and they said she'd have to just work through it. It did go away, just to return with vengence.

No one tells you that when your baby gets a cold, all that sweetness and goodness just goes right down the toilet. Talk about fussy! But, then again, I guess I would be too, if I couldn't blow all that snot out my nose. Poor ladybug has to just sit and let that crap run down at its own leisurely pace. Yesterday while feeding her, it funneled right into her mouth. A new strain of baby food was created - fruit n' phlegm. Mmmmmm. She didn't seem to mind too much.

I had enough, though, when as I was holding her and I looked down on my arm and it was covered in green snot. The damn had released and it flowed right onto me! When she had woken up, there was snot completely caked around and in her nostrils. There was snot in her eyes. She could hardly open them because so much snot was caked everywhere. Poor thing. Miserable.

When I took her to the pediatrician, they had me enter through the "sick child" entrance. Talk about feeling like a boil on someone's butt! I understand...I thought she had pink eye and that stuff is horribly contageous. But entering the clinic through a back door where you had to just wait until someone noticed you and could quickly find you a room...downright unsettling.

At least she's on antibiotics and the snot river should slow to a trickle and then dry up altogether. I went to the doc, too, because I'm sure we keep passing the stuff back and forth. The joys of parenting that they just don't tell you about.

My, What a New House You Have

So much has happened since my last post (and no, I'm not pregnant, thank-you very little!). We have been wanting to move to the 'burbs (gasp!) for a couple of years. With the real estate market in the tank, we've put it off. We decided back in March that we would get our house spruced up, and put it on the market in June and see what happened. So, of course any free chance I got I would end up on Red.fin, checking out all the big fancy houses that you can get for a song compared to our rinky dink fixer upper in Seattle proper.

Fast forward to just about five weeks ago. We decided to go for a drive and visit a burb about 10 minutes north of us. We didn't know much about it, printed off a few MLS's, and checked them out. All of the houses were in super clean, well maintained, beautiful neighborhoods, but one of them stood out from all the rest. It was amazing. It was on a culdesac. It had sidewalks. From the pics on the website, it had been completely remodeled inside. There wasn't a thing needing to be done to it. And it was in our price range. We were hooked. We called our realtor and sheepishly told him we really needed to see this house - it surely wouldn't last long (had only been on the market 8 days) at that price. He agreed and we saw it the next day and was even more impressed with the inside. The owner must have spent all her time cleaning the place - it was so insanely clean.

Next day - made a contingent offer.

Day after that - they accepted.

5 days later - put our house on the market (whaaaaa? That was so insane. Going from crazy messy house with a million to-do projects and painting. Ugh. 5 practically all-nighters).

Next day - got offer on our house (one day on market!)

Day after that - mutual acceptance

closing - THIS Friday!

It's true. We have to be out of our house in five days. We've been packing like crazy people and have had to rent FOUR storage units b/c our new house doesn't close for two weeks after this one. As luck would have it, we're in Maui for those two weeks, so being homeless isn't too bad. But, staging a house, packing a house, and moving a house with a 10 month old is absolutely insane. I do not recommend it unless you enjoy being poked in the eye with a sharp stick, because it is painful. But, Maui and a lovely new home looms. I just need to get through the next few days.

I've missed you, bloggy friends! I hope all is well with you~

30 day countdown starts with a SHOT

I got my second round of the varicella vaccine this week, fancy term for Chicken Pox. Apparently I never had it as a child (the pox). I thought all kids of my generation had it. Mothers loved to hustle their child over to the nearest kid with the pox, expose them, and get the rite of childhood passage over and done with. I guess my mom never got around to doing it with me. I found out right before my IVF that I didn't have the immunity. You can read all about the drama that came with that here.

NO ONE in Seattle carries the varicella vaccine. Which is weird, because I guess they give it to all babies/kids now. It seriously took my Doc an entire week to track it down at the Travel Medicine department at the UW Hospital. The same place you go to get all your crazy shots if you're traveling overseas to somewhere exotic (no, Mexico and the Bahamas don't count). I felt like a total loser going there for a Chicken Pox shot. They ask, "where are you going and when are you leaving?" I really wished I could have answered anything other than "just staying home and trying to get pregnant, thanks."

The nurse was ca-razy. No wonder she got stuck in that job. Zero bedside manners or social skills. She asked me what type of birth control I was on because if you get preggo within a month of the shot, you open yourself...well, your baby, for a whole world of hurt with birth defects. She flipped out when I told her I wasn't using birth control. It was like I was a 15 year old screwing the football team without visiting planned.parenthood first.

To make a very long story even longer, in one month, after the vaccine makes its way through my system, I will be "clear" to start trying for baby #2. We've already decided that no heroic measures will be taken. The most we're willing (and financially able) to do, is acupuncture and Clomid (which was a stretch because BigB really hates the way it makes my horns come out and my head spin around).

I have one month to get my mo-jo back. The thought of "trying" seems, well, trying. I need to figure out a way to make DOING IT fun. Not all wrapped up in pee sticks and ovulation charts and hampered by dirty diapers and teething babies.

In all reality, it probably isn't the best time for us to get knocked up or to even try. We're struggling financially and relationally. But, there's that whole age-related ticking time bomb. If we don't try now, there aren't a whole lot of months left before the eggs dry up. It's a lot of pressure to know I have like 14 months left before my baby-making days are over for good. Shop closed for business. So, here we go. Perfect timing or not. I keep telling myself LOTs of families were started/expanded without everything being perfect, right? Plus, who am I kidding. The chance of me getting pregnant on nothing but a wing and a prayer (and a bottle of clomid), isn't real high, anyhow.

Past Due

We got a bill yesterday from the hospital where LadyBug was born. Eight months ago. The bill was for Kate and for her ROOM CHARGES. Yes...they charged her a cool grand for her room and board.

OK. Let's think about this. They already charged me a kajillion dollars for my room. LadyBug didn't have her own room. She shared mine. In fact, they wouldn't let her leave my room. I asked. During one of those four-hour screaming fits I begged the nurse to take her, "just for a moment" before my head spun off and twirled down the hall. Ah...no. She smiled and told me no.

So, why the bill for LadyBug's room? I'm pretty sure you can't classify that plastic thingy that sort of looks like a bassinet as a hospital room.

And board? Scuze me? How many frozen popsicles and yogurts did they give my newborn? I PROVIDED BOARD. The closest thing o food they gave LadyBug was a free sample of Sim.ilac.

I'm a little confused, dear hospital guys. What am I paying for, and why are you billing me eight months after the fact? I'd really like to contest it. I'd really like them to try to explain the charges and prove that they indeed can bill for them.

Pearly Whites at Last

We "fired" NannyMann and BigB decided to take a month of Wednesdays off to cover. He texted me last Wednesday and said, "Guess what I found in Kate's mouth today?"

Freaked me out.

She's been totally shoving everything in her mouth. I was scared what she might have found on our floor that hasn't been vacuumed in, I don't know, months?? "Dog Poop?" "A quarter?" "Shards of glass?" I replied.

"Teeth!" He said.

Teeth! LadyBug has teeth. Plural! No warning whatsoever. No drooling. No fever. No whining. No tugging of ears. She's a little behind the eight ball...seeing as she's eight months, so we were looking for them. But they came on their own accord. She had grabbed BigB's hand and shoved it in her mouth and he felt the little buggers. It's now official. She's not a baby anymore. Tears in five-four-three-two-one.

Sunshiney Kinda Day

What a glorious day! It's 56 degrees, the sun is shining, the birds are singing. And it's FEBRUARY! What's going on? This is Seattle....where's the rain? The grey clouds? I'm not sure, but I'll take it.

I actually went on a run (okay...JOG) during my lunch hour and ya know, it didn't suck! Which is awesome in and of itself. Because I am going to MAUI! Yeah...baby...that's right. Maui. 10 glorious days on the ocean. This will be the first time BigB and I have gone on a proper vacation since our honeymoon. It also provides proper motivation for getting into shape. Or at least better shape. I've got twelve weeks to whittle away some of the havoc on my bod.

On other fronts, LadyBug has decided to wake up every morning at 1:30 a.m. and not go back to sleep which has been great fun for all involved. After an hour and 15 minutes this morning, she finally wore herself out and fell back asleep. I'm sure I'm more exhausted than she. All she has to do is sit around and play with soft toys all day. I have to actually WORK to buy her those toys! Ungrateful little soul!

Here's a sweet pic of her that I took for her monthly calendar (see the little hearts on her dress?). How could anyone be upset with a face like that??

Is a NannyMan Trouble?

Here's a question:

Would you let a man watch your baby?

Would it make a difference if he was related to you?

Would it make a difference if your baby was a boy or girl?

How about if your child was a toddler? Grade Schooler?

All day vs. a few hours?



I've been really struggling with this. With respect to equality of the sexes, I shouldn't have a problem with it, right? We, as women, have been struggling with the "glass ceiling," equal pay, and sexist remarks in the workplace, but when it comes to a man watching my baby, I get a little squeamish.

Since my mom had her knee replaced, we've been having my niece's boyfriend (29 yrs old), watch Lady Bug once a week. He's a waiter (not terribly motivated in life), and needs some extra money with the economy hitting his industry pretty hard right now.

He loves kids...wants to get married and have a truckload. Has made it clear to my niece that he'd love to be a stay-at-home dad. He is very sweet with LadyBug...but I always wonder if he's a little *too* sweet. Every week when I leave her with him, I get a little anxious and can't wait to get back home. She always seems happy and content when I return, and happy to see him each week.

Am I obsessing and not being fair?

Desperately Seeking Skinny

As mentioned afore, I work on a college campus. "Fashion" stares me in the face all day long. Right now, every single girl I see has the on "skinny jeans" with boots. Seeing as I'm desperately fighting the "mom look," I went and got me some skinny jeans.

I didn't really want to spend a caboodle of cash on skinny jeans that don't actually make me look skinny or look young enough to wear them. So, I laid out a whole $11 at JCPen.ney. It's true. They were on clearance and they're kinda cute...till you look around back. There's these big-azzzz, copper-colored brads in the shape of a breast cancer/aids ribbon. I figure I'll just cover that up with one of those cute long-ish cardigan thingy that are all the rage.

So I stuff my oversized self into my skinny-sized jeans and cram on some boots, and hey, what d'ya know, I look like a middle-aged mom desperately trying not to look like a middle-aged mom. Emphasis on the desperate. You see, there's more than the average muffin-top awaiting me at the top of my newly found skinny jeans. It's not even a bagel. More like a whole damn cake...oozing out. I try disguising it with the same sweater that's covering up the cheesy design on my jean pockets which doesn't really work....layers adds more girth.

My intern noticed my skinny jeans right away. "Those are so cute!" She squealed. I know as soon as I turned my back she was texting all her friends "OMG my boss has the CHEESIEST skinny jeans on EVER. And she's got a HUGE muffin top. ROTFL."

One of the AA's took one look at me and mentioned that all I needed was a Harley to make my outfit complete. Hmmmm. Not really what I was going for.

I'm thinking that these skinny jeans sure looked a whole lot better on me when they were all the rage in Jr. High. I should probably heed the sage advice that "if it was in fashion once before in your lifetime, you probably shouldn't wear it again." But I'll probably just get a bigger sweater.

Once More for Old Times Sake

I pee'd on a stick today. Somehow, someway, I had convinced myself that I was pregnant. After all that we went through to get LadyBug, I actually thought that I had managed to get knocked up all on my own. On one try. What have I been smoking??

Two weeks ago I noticed something that seemed an awful lot like EWCM. I had weaned Kate the prior month, and was expecting a period at some point. Then the slippery clear stuff. I got a little twinkle in my eye (hadn't I heard that you're most fertile after pregnancy?) and made some serious advances toward BigB. You could tell he was like, WTF, but obviously not confused enough to put up much of a fight.

Then of course all the symptoms started. Boobies a bit sore. Having to pee every two hours during the night, feeling a little queasy. I had done it! The unheard of was going to come true!
I was literally counting my projected due date, names for the new wee one, and the impending move we'd need to make with a fourth in the family. I went through the dreaded TWW, and pulled out a slightly dusty, but unexpired test from the depths of the bathroom cabinet. I waited till BigB had left for work, and then POAS with abandon and sat that little stick on my countertop and started the 60 second countdown.

No second line.

I checked that damn thing like twenty times. Even left it there and went back like an hour later, just in case it needed a little more time to read my pee correctly.

My fantasy ended up in the trash can, wrapped in paper towel to disguise my stupidity.

Being the infertile that I am, I've heard the story countless times. "As soon as you have a baby, your body will know what to do." Or, "my cousin's best friend's aunt couldn't get pregnant, and as soon as she had her first, she got pregnant on her own - didn't even plan it!" I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. And, of course, to top it off, eight hours later my favorite aunt showed up. First time in a year and a half. Funny. I still hate that biatch.

I swore up and down that I would NOT go through the emotional roller coaster of years past. If we get pregnant again, we get pregnant again. No more monthly anticipation followed with tremendous crashes. Over and over and over again. Somehow I'm going to have to find a balance. Still "trying" without getting emotionally wrapped up in it all. I'll let ya know how that works out for me.

Just Being and Not Doing

BigB looked over at me tonight and said, "ya know, we've become that old couple."

We were sitting on the couch, just chillin' to some music and enjoying a little down time while LadyBug slept.

"What d'ya mean? That old couple?" I replied.

"You know. That old couple they always talk about. Where she's reading a magazine and showing him everything in it. That's what we're doing. You're reading that catalog, reading it to me, and showing me the pictures."

Its true. I was. It's a Friday night, I'm devouring the latest CrateNBarrell, and showing him practically every page. There's just so much cool stuff in there! We need it all, right? That super cool skillet that makes teeny little pancakes? That sweet mini bar? Those cute red dishes? Doesn't he want to see all this awesome stuff? I'm interested in it...shouldn't he? He is my "other half."

This is what our Friday nights have become. Hanging out with a home retailers magazine. At first glance it may seem a little sad. A little "old." But ya know, I LOVE it. Just doing nothing. Having no where to go. Nothing that has to get done.

Having a baby changes your free time. You crave it. You need it. Those few moments when you can just "be" and not "do." I never really understood it...I mean, how hard can parenting be? Ha. Endless entertaining, diapering, feeding, wailing, bathing. If the baby is awake, you're tending to her. If she's asleep, you're trying to get the kajillion other things done that you've put off: that pile of dishes, the laundry, brushing your teeth, showering.

And then comes the night. When she's finally asleep. The monitor makes no noise but a soothing buzz. Then it's my time. I'll sacrifice sweet sleep for a few hours of nothingness. By the time I have more than a few hours of alone time before bed, I'll have to wear readers and it'll be the latest edition of AARP.

I'm a Big Girl Now

New Year's Eve I wore a very low-cut dress. I had to squeeze myself into it. It was embarrassing. BigB had to help me zipper the thing up. BUT, lemme tell you, my girls looked GOOD. I felt more than a little self-conscious, but BigB was practically begging me to wear it while wiping up his drool with his sleeve.

We headed out for the evening. Our first stop for the evening was two window seats at a little swanky bar. The valet outside, I swear, was staring at my little ladies through the window. He unabashedly oogled his way not once, but three times past our window. Didn't matter that BigB could've thrown him to the ground and made him into a mincemeat pie.

The waiter walked by, looked down into the cleavage, and muttered some uninteligeable guttural sounds, similar to the dad in the Christmas Story as he watched his Christmas Turkey get devoured by the Bumpkis' dogs. Couldn't discern a word.

As we crossed the street to the restaurant, some very drunk college boy stopped my husband and asked, "is this your sister? cuz she looks really good." Again, BigB could have tromped the little sophomore with one hand tied behind his back, but this kid thought my chest worth the risk.

I was loving it. Almost made the six months of breastfeeding worth it. I felt pretty powerful and made me think about all the girls out there with a lifetime of huge melons and what they're able to manipulate. But alas, I did wean sweet LadyBug so I imagine this prowess is short lived. I didn't MEAN to wean her...it was supposed to be a gradual thing, but as soon as I stopped pumping at work it just completely dried up. Now it's just a matter of time before I'm back to my B's.

It's a New Year

Okay...so I have to keep my New Year's Resolution (to actually keep this blog going). So, here's a post. See! I can keep my resolution! The others are to exercise more and to say "no" to deserts. Those I sadly failed at already.

2009 was an awesome year. Really. I feel so blessed. Every day I'm amazed that God gave me this sweet little girl to love and care for. I'm still blown away that she's here. Having her has made me realize how fortunate I am. I have a job. I have a loving, caring husband. I'm healthy. My family is healthy. I have a home.

I'm looking forward to what 2010 will bring. I look forward to this new outlook on life - that it'll cast a faintly rose-colored hue...just enough to remind myself of all the good things life has to offer.

And, just so you can see for yourself, here's little Lady Bug herself. Showing off the sweet little smile that just makes my heart burst.

Last night me and Big B rang in the new year by dining at Serious Pie and then going to see the Seattle Symphony (Beethoven's 9th), with a little Salsa dancing afterward. It was the most fun we've had in a long time. Lady Bug stayed overnight with my parents, and I didn't worry a bit (her first time away from us overnight). It was the perfect start to the New Year.