i tawt i taw a puddy tat

I think I've alluded to the fact that my vagina has been under a lot of pressure. Literally. So why does my puddy tat have an affinity for my "puddy"? Our Chancey kitty mistakenly believes that she is the queen of this castle. Normally, I let her live in her delusional state. However, when I am pregnant, tired, huge, and hormonal I can't possibly let her live that lie. Especially when I insist on declaring my status as the reigning Queen of my Kingdom.

On the rare occasion that I let her lay her over-weight self on top of my over-stuffed self, she insists on pawing at my "puddy" until she is good and comfy. I'm not sure if that is something all cats do...kind of like how pervert dogs need to sniff your nether regions every time they see you. I'm not really an animal person so this apparent obsession they have with the cooch really bothers me, especially when I'm pregnant! Do I honestly need the puddy tat to remind me that my "puddy" will never be the same and may never recover??!!

Here she is trying to get as close to the "puddy" as possible.

Do you see my hand attempting to protect my precious "puddy" from the darn puddy tat?!

Again, me tolerating Miss Puddy Tat.

Obviously this is a personal problem! I just prefer to keep the puddy and the "puddy"...seperate!

Like Mother Like Son

Here's my boys in a session of making fun of mom! I thought it was pretty cute. Especially since mommy is the only adult they really see right now. I may, or may not, have a little too much influence on them. Hmmm. You might want to hurry home daddy!

Roses Are Red. Violets Are Blue

Roses are a symbol of love and romance; a way to acknowledge a special moment. I think they have become second nature to events such as Valentine's day, anniversaries, and birthdays, and many times we take them for granted. A rose is a rose is a rose. Admittedly, in the past several years I've come to expect my bouquet of roses so lovingly gifted by my hubby for those above mentioned special occasions. Sometimes we fail to recognize the "special" in what we deem "ordinary".

Hours after my husband's unit boarded the "daddy bus", as my boys heart-breakingly call it, to begin their year-long journey at war, I received the most meaningful gift in the most everyday gesture.  The house was quiet...eerily so. All 4 boys were napping after the long emotional morning, and I sat alone in the quiet of our house contemplating "a year". When the doorbell rang.

A dozen beautiful, big red roses were handed to me with a love note from my husband. I didn't give them much thought other than a heart-warming gesture from my hubby trying to bridge the distance that was now between us. Not much thought...until one month later when I was surprised by another delivery of flowers. This time, the bouquet only contained 11 roses...1 for each month that was left. In that moment, roses became much more meaningful to me representing so much more than love, romance, or gesture.

I've since received bouquets of 10, 9, 8, 7 and most recently...6. Six beautiful roses symbolizing 6 months left in our journey; 6 months of moments and memories and tears and missing daddy behind us. We've come so far...and still so far to go. Six roses.

I look forward to my delivery every month like a kid on Christmas eve. And even though I know how many will arrive each month I count them just the same. Each individual rose representing one more month we will have to face and overcome. Most see my monthly gift of roses as a romantic gesture from a husband at war. And it is.

But they are also so much more...than just a rose.

The Vagina Chronicles

I'm not sure how many of you actually stayed around to read what I have to say...but let me explain myself! I'm 34 1/2 (yes the 1/2 definitely matters!) pregnant with baby #5. Five! You do know where the previous 4 have escaped from, don't you?? And, as long as all goes according to plan, #5 will take the same path of departure.That's a lot of trauma to be expected for one, likes-to-be-treated-like-a-Queen vagina (OK...so Mrs. Duggar is about to pop out #20. Obviously her vagina had a higher calling than mine). Mine, however, is starting to think that her job here is done. She's considering retirement, if you will.

Much to her dismay, however, she will still be called upon to do the unthinkable in about 6-7 (or 8 or 9 in my case...I hold them in for a long time. I think I must have a cervix of steal or something!) weeks! Poor girl...she never saw it coming really. One minute she's telling hubby "goodbye" and "here's to your safe return from war", and the next she is blindsided by this surprise (and not requested, by the way) "call to duty"! Will she get a badge of honor at the end of this??? No! Of course not. It is merely part of her job as described under "other duties as assigned by employer".

However, I don't think I have successfully prepared her for this upcoming task. All of the muscles surrounding her have apparently surrendered under the pressure of the upcoming battle. Walking hurts. Sitting to standing and visa versa hurts. Using my legs to push things (or kids) hurts. What is going on?! I've been so nice to her. I've even let her forgo her most undesirable task during pregnancy (we'll talk a different time about why pregnancy and sex doesn't mix).

SO until the trauma of D-day befalls her I need to be extra careful. She is the last one with whom I want to make an enemy. I'm gonna need her again someday....actually when hubby is done saving the world, I would like to reintroduce her to him. Hopefully, she and I will be back on speaking terms by the time he comes home. Wish her (and me) luck!!

The On-going Challenge of Good vs Evil- Writer's Workshop

I've been a mama for a really long time...almost 13 years, in fact. And I've learned a thing or two about the ups and downs, ins and outs, and the good, the bad, and the ugly that accompany this mothering gig. As in everything in life, being a parent involves unique challenges and surprising joys that occur almost daily...reminding me that the battle of good versus evil never sleeps.

Sleepy-eyed morning hugs give way to mid-day throw-down tantrums. Slobbery kisses after morning snacks quietly turn into tears and a battle of wills at lunchtime. Nap times are met with growls and disputes. While the post-nap wake up graces us with snuggles and kisses on the couch. "I love you"'s melt your heart with the same fervor that their angry cold shoulders makes us want to cry. We crave alone time or a girls' night out...only to feel an ache and an emptiness in our hearts that can only be filled by the very kiddos we claim we are trying to escape.

It's a tug of war, really. One minute their sweetness and hold they have on our hearts is overwhelming and intoxicating. While the next, their tantrums, defiance, and frustrating nuances drive us to drinking and binging bouts with chocolate.

I can't imagine the joys of parenting being as rewarding or as sweet if we didn't have to face and overcome all of the challenges that also accompany this mothering path. With the good comes the bad...and in that lies the greatest joys and challenges I face in parenting. Doing the best I can in all situations for each individual child, and noticing, enjoying, and appreciating our daily victories both big and small. It requires grace, dignity, patience.......and a little bravery and a lot of wine.


This post is in response to Mama Kat's writer's workshop prompt 2.) Your biggest parenting challenge and/or joy.

Curiosity Killed the Cat...Not the Kid

My boys aren't big on shopping. Actually, my two oldest boys view it as some kind of inhumane torture and treat it as such....with much whining, complaining, and begging for mercy. They also believe it is a mere necessary evil...one which demands adherence to a very specific list. Shopping for "fun" is foreign and unheard of to them. With that said, I try to do most of my leisure shopping without the presence of the older two "fun"-haters.

The younger two, however, seem to be quite fond of shopping with mommy and love to "help" me pick out new shirts, dresses, jewelry, scarves...you name it, they put it in the "to buy" pile, cart, or my arms. It's actually quite sweet, and I enjoy their presence on my shopping trips....most of the time. Sometimes, however, my littlest gets...distracted. All that glitters, glistens and "lifts up"...must be investigated by my sweet, innocent...man in training!

I'm not sure if it's a case of "boys will be boys" or if he is practicing for the future. Either way, I think I'll have to strike the word "innocent" from my vocabulary!

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Extracurricular activities for our offspring are necessary evils in most homes. "Every body's doing it" has broken many a mama that falsely believed she was "the chosen one" and may be able to avoid this mandated rite of passage. Once we set aside our own agendas, to-do lists, and schedules (for the next several years I might add), we get to enjoy watching our kids learn commitment, hard work, and valuable life lessons. Unfortunately, these attributes aren't learned immediately...it will take several years of committing our Saturdays and weeknights to organized activities in order to reap the benefits. 

Doomsday aside, it is pretty sweet to see your tiny tot kick a goal (even if it was into the opponents net), actually hit the ball of the tee (three strike rule doesn't count for awhile), and tackle his first quarterback (ok...it was flag football but whatever)! However, sometimes those shining moments can be few and far between. We all must start at the bottom, and after the joy of seeing your budding young athlete NOT pay attention to the coach, push his teammate down, and chase a butterfly (all of which YOU paid good money for) you come to realize this expensive, time consuming nightmare is soon to become your way of life...for many, many years. You can't take away their new-found love, and your presence IS mandatory at each and every event...for many, many years. So what is a mom to do? If you can't beat 'em...join 'em!

"What?" you say. Of course I don't mean join the game (this is actually quite frowned upon...our job is to clap, cheer, take pictures, and provide the ceremonial half-time or after-game snack!). This is a perfect opportunity to strike up some good old fashioned girl-on-girl socializing. Admit it...it's well overdue and part of you is really excited to talk to another female adult that also looks less-than-thrilled to be shivering (or melting depending upon where you live) on the soccer game sideline.

I view this time as my weekly mom-dates. And after several seasons of a kiddo being on the same team, you start to create a "mom-clique", "home girls", "bosom buddies". Whatever you want to call it, you look forward to chatting up the sideline or bleachers with these ladies. It becomes a coveted time of desperately-needed adult conversation free from little ears or the intrusion of husbands (they do their own thing while we chat).

But what happens when the team gets split up?! Tears, drama, and adult tantrums that's what! And I'm not too proud to admit that I dread the inevitable time when my soccer/baseball friends get taken from me. These are the people you laugh with about your crazy kids, the ladies who roll their eyes with you at your husband's latest stupidity, and the ones who have offered an occasional shoulder to cry on. And it sucks when you are forced to bid them adieu!

So the next time you are forced to bundle up your minion and attend a soccer game in the snow, don't grumble, growl, and frown. Grab a hot cup of coffee (it IS ok if that coffee has "flavoring"!), an extra blanket and enjoy the girl time...oh, and get their cell number, twitter handle, and friend them on facebook because being a sideline mom is a lot of work. You're going to need your reinforcements!

Knight in Shining...Camo???

I love being a stay-at-home-mom. For years I dreamed of getting to have all of my littles' moments...and I remember painfully, jealously, and longingly watching other moms who were blessed to get to spend their days with their children. Until the day my desire was finally realized. Just me and my boys...every moment is mine...the good, the bad, and the ugly. And I love it....of course, when I don't...and then my refuge, my saving grace, my hero at the end of a long temper-tantrum-filled day is my hubby.

Stay at home mom or not, my house suffers from the same "bewitching hour" as everyone else...I don't like it any more than anyone else, and I definitely dread its inevitable arrival at the end of my calm, quiet, peaceful afternoon. After-school and nap-wake up madness is my demise almost every single day. I'm not a morning person (AT ALL!), but I'd much rather do a second morning every day than that time between school bus drop off/end of nap and when daddy thankfully comes through that door! And now with him gone for what seems like forever, I'm reminded just how important it is to have my knight in shining armor (or camo) come home each and every night...even if my doomsday text messages scared the heck out of him!

I look forward to his arrival so much, that my "countdown to daddy's rescue" starts at about...4:00pm. That's about all I can take especially once the weather is too frightful to kick the kids outside. When I hear his car pull into the driveway and the familiar squeak of his door, I have to stop myself from bull rushing the front door...knocking my captors- I mean kiddos down in my pursuit to hide behind- I mean hug my rescuer. He successfully saves me from the looming mommy-meltdown that threatens to boil over...every.single.day.

Ravenous snack monsters, homework questions/demands, "what's for supper" interrogations, bickering, whining, screaming......it's enough to make a grown woman run to her closet and hide! But every evening my knight in shining armor once again saunters through my front door, wards off the charging villagers, and holds me in his strong camouflage-encrusted arms. It doesn't matter that his beautiful horse is a beat-up old Buick or that his armor is sometimes dirty, sweaty camouflage. I'd let him scoop me up and carry me away to fade into the sunset any day!

Does This Pregnancy Make Me Look Crazy?

Normally I am quite successful in reigning in my off-the-wall idiosyncrasies. Lately, however, I have not been as diligent about hiding-er-controlling my less than appealing nuances. I have to admit, that even when there isn't a surprise baby on board, I tend to like things the way I like them. Hubby lovingly refers to this as "high maintenance". I refer to it as "attention to detail", and without such surely the world would end!

However, I fear that the family doesn't see it this way and have been forced to suffer through my less-than-desirable over-reactions in silence for fear that my crazy will jump all over them. You see, with hubby home he can at least mask my quirks with humor or distraction. There in lies the problem...hubby isn't here. And I fear that without his intervention I am merely another victim to pregnant hormones run amuck! And my poor kiddos have no where to escape.

Nary a child wants to be caught leaving a random toy on the floor. An assault which surely justifies torture if not death. And my poor oldest boy had to suffer the wrath of my out-of-control OCD when he put the canned goods away in the pantry after grocery shopping. Upside down and backwards cans stared back at me when I opened the door...and I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I may not be to the extreme of the husband in "Sleeping With the Enemy", but I fear I may be just one over-turned can away!

Putting clean laundry away in the dresser should not require instruction or supervision, but I seem to have been proven wrong. Clothes hanging out of half-open drawers, clean shirts on the floor having fallen off their hangers, and discarded inside-out hoodies greet me when I attempt to enter the lair of the oldest two dudes. The horror of such a sight seems to send me into a mommafied tizzy. Luckily for the criminals, they are at the safety of their respective schools and do not have to witness my meltdown and the frenzy that follows.

Requests for special outings are met with a hefty pregnant-lady sigh and a possible flutter of my eyes. Acquisitions for family games in the evening hours are quickly rejected from my horizontal position on the couch. And extracurricular activities have become my verbalized nightmare.

I'm not sure if it's crankiness with age...although 30(ish) isn't exactly old, pregnant hormones and fatigue, or the absence of my hubby. You be the judge....crazy? or not crazy?

Once Upon A Before and After

There are lots of changes that come with pregnancy and new baby. Most are wonderful and joyous...if you like stretch marks, hemorrhoids, and sleep deprivation! This is how I see the transition through the eyes of my hubby.

Sexy bra before pregnancy:

Functional bra during and after pregnancy:

Sexy panties before pregnancy:

Functional and comfortable panties during and after pregnancy:

Ringing in the Christmas Spirit "supplies" before pregnancy:

Ringing in the Christmas spirit "supplies" post pregnancy:

Good thing hubby loves me....because this is quite a depressing story for him!