When I left this room to answer the phone it was clean. Every single toy had been put away, and Nicholas was sitting at his table with his Curious George flashlight.

We only have 2 working phones in our house - sometimes 3. And being as starved for adult conversation as I am, I am unable to let the phone ring. I MUST answer it so that I can talk about something other than the Wiggles or the fact that yes, that's Elmo and No, Daddy's at work today.

I don't really like the idea of leaving the boys in their room alone, for no other reason that Nicholas might try to pick up his brother and place him in the toy bin. But I can see into the room from the guest room, the room with the working phone.

However, Nicholas knows how to shut the door. And during this particluar phone conversation he shut it on me. I then had to end the conversation and rush back to their room. Where I found this mess. It took a grand total of two minutes for this clean, practically spotless room to become a wreck. What you can't see is that he pulled all of the blankets off his bed. But see the stuffed animals? See the blocks? There are also board books and alphabet flashcards all over the floor. My day planner's also down there. Nick drew on a few of the pages, as if he were trying to schedule appointments for me in my absence.

My favorite is the Stephen King novel on the footrest. Obviously I had been hard at work before the phone rang - or else you might question the reading material I choose for my kids.

My brother Winston came up to visit for a few hours. To be fair, this visit lasted longer then his previous visits in that he actually stayed with us for more than one night. Not that I don't think he should visit, but I often wonder if it is worth his while to drive up from New York.

Anyway, I love it when my family visits, but I am then often faced with the fact that I am boring, and that there is nothing to do here. As the evening rolls around Steve and I begin throwing out ideas that all seem lame and not fun. Our guests must be plied with alcohol so that we can convince them they are enjoying themselves, and that we are witty and entertaining people.

Yesterday afternoon Steve took Winston out to look at some rocks. There is some issue surrounding these rocks and the new high school in our town - I won't go into it because trust me, you don't care. But for whatever reason, Steve got a call from a fellow planning board member INVITING HIM to go look at these rocks.

So they did. Steve told me they'd be gone for 30 minutes and he took off with my brother, leaving me here with Nick and Nate.

An hour later they came back. Nicholas immediately ran to the baby gate and begged to be picked up, shouting "Dada! Daddy! Dada!"

However, Steve informed me they couldn't stay. They had come only to switch vehicles because Steve's fellow planning board member's car GOT STUCK! So off they went again, leaving me for yet another 40 minutes with Nate and a very, very sad and sobbing Nicholas.

I would like to be able to simply take off to look at some rocks, but under the circumstances I need to plan my trips to the mailbox.

When asked what he thought about his first bath, Nathan stated only "No Comment."

I know this photo is not a great one, but I thought it was at least funny. And I'm running low on pictures to post.

See, what happened is that my camera battery died and when I went to recharge it I seemed to have lost the recharger. Upon further investigation, it appeared that my mother had packed it up and taken it with her when she left. She and Steve had been working on getting HER camera to work, and my battery charger got mixed up with her wires and things somehow.

Fortunately, my brother Winston is up to visit, and he has the charger with him. Today I can charge up the battery, and begin taking new, fresh, clear, unfuzzy photos again - perhaps as soon as tonight. I am still working on getting a good photo of the two boys together - one where you can see both of their cute little faces, and where neither child looks like he wants to snatch the other's sip cup or shove the other off the chair / couch. If I can get a good one before Nate is a month old, I will use this photo for a baby announcement. But if it doesn't happen I refuse to stress. People will live without a baby announcement. After all, this is my second child.

And as everyone knows, I plan of giving the Duggars from Arkansas a run for their money. That's right, I am planning on seventeen children. And one simply can NOT expect to send out baby announcements for every single one. (By the way, if you haven't guessed, all MY kids will have "N" names. Please send me your favorite "N" names so Steve and I can begin arguing over them RIGHT AWAY.)

This picture has nothing to do with this post, except that it was taken at sunset from my back porch - the very back porch of the house where these events took place. Kind of like looking at a picture of Paris while listening to a Tale of Two Cities.

When Nick was a little baby we had sleep issues. I was frustrated because most of the books that I read focused on getting your child to fall asleep. But Nicholas didn't have any trouble falling asleep. It was STAYING asleep. He would sleep for 40 minutes, or maybe an hour, then wake up. I found myself feeding him, changing him, and rocking him back to sleep around 5 or 6 times a night. Eventually things got better, and now Nick is a great sleeper. He still wakes up at night, but it has - for the most part - become a rare event. When I found out I was pregnant again the one big thing I hoped for was that this next kid would sleep better than Nick did when he was little.

God has a sense of humor. I really do beleive this. Whatever there is out there ruling the universe, whatever you call God, is laughing at me right now.

Nathan sleeps. He can sleep for hours. Sometimes, during the day, he will sleep for almost 4 hours at a time. I consider this to be amazing, especially since he's so little. It is also frustrating since I'm supposed to be feeding him more often than every 4 hours, and since he seems to wake up almost as soon as Nick falls asleep for a nap. Ha ha. Joke's on me, right? But wait. That's not the funny part. The funny part is that I can not for the life of me get Nate to fall asleep. Once he DOES fall asleep, he'll sleep for hours... unless it's at night and I put him down in his little bassinet. Then he wakes up almost immediately or starts this really scary choking on spitup thing that makes me pick him up again. He will fall asleep nursing and wake up as I put him down. He will sleep only if he's nursing in bed with me. If I try to move him he will wake up, and I will more than likely have to change a diaper. During the day a feeding can stretch to fill two hours as I feed him, put his sleeping body down, only to have him wake the second my hands leave his body.

If Nate were an only child I would carry him all the time and nurse him all the time and we would have no issues. But the fact is, he is NOT an only child. He has an older brother who also requires diaper changes and food of some sort and someone to take away the sharp and pointy thing he just found and replace it with something just as fun and distracting. I do not ha ve time to let Nate nurse all day.

What it boild down to is that - even though Nate wakes only twice during the night, each wake-up time stretches into hours. With Nick still faithfully waking at 6am every morning, I sometimes get more than 4 hours of sleep, none of it together, most of it on my side squashed between my husband and Nate (who knew a newborn could take up so much room in the bed?)

I know it will get better. I also know it might possibly get worse before it gets better. But eventually Nathan will reach the sleeping at least 6 hours phase and I won't even be tempted to wake him up and feed him. But for now I am a walking zombie.

I have to say that, if I didn't know things would get better sometimes in the not-too-distant future, I would probably go insane.

I love both my boys. In an ideal world I would spend time alone with each of them, and time together with both of them, and I would be RIGHT THERE if they fell or were hungry or needed a change.

But then there's the truth of it, which is that they seem to gang up on me. There must be some sort of telepathy involved, because I can't understand half of what Nicholas says, and Nathan's cries come in only two flavors: Fussy and Majorly Upset. But the outcome is that there are hours where everything goes right and I am almost bored. And then there are times when they both need me RIGHT NOW, and I must choose between them. I'm not caring for them and anticipating their needs, I'm putting out fires and hoping the boys don't kill themselves.

Yesterday I spent over an hour rocking and nursing Nathan, who seems to think I am some sort of 170lb. pacifier. As soon as I put him down and fasten my bra, he wakes up and starts fussing. During this whole time Nicholas was fine. He played with his toys, danced by himself to music, and generally made me feel inadequate as a parent and vow to get back to those playdates and storytimes, even if I had to drag this 2 week old baby with me everywhere.

But then there was the incident where I was trying to nurse a very fussy Nathan right after lunch, when Nick should have been going to bed for a nap. Instead, Nicholas decided to jump off of the couch and land right on his head, which made a sick THUNK on the hardwood floor. I immediately put Nate down on the couch and tried to comfort my older son, who would not stop crying until I fed him a small amount of chocolate. Of course, Nate took exception to being put aside, and began squeeling that high pitched squealing cry (Majorly Upset). I was then faced with a dilemma. Who do I go to? Or, if you will, whose crying is more irritating? Also - Nick hit his head - do I put him down for a nap? He was acting tired, but of course, it was his NAP TIME. But I kept remembering all these stories of head injuries where the kids fall asleep and then slip into a coma. And how can ANYONE sleep with Nathan screaming?

In the end, sleep won out. Nick just fell asleep, Wiggles or no Wiggles. Nate fell asleep nursing on his giant moving pacifier. Then I jumped into bed and fell asleep. I woke up over an hour later and rushed to Nick's room where I poked him until he woke up. He was a bit grouchy, but hey - he woke up.

I'm hoping today goes more smoothly. So far Nick has tried climbing into my lap while I was nursing Nate only twice, and Nathan actually let me put him down long enough to post this and throw on some clothes that I can't leave the house in. So maybe today will be another good day! If not, I will just have to put aside my TV guilt and go back to my very-pregnant days of letting the Wiggles and the Koala Brothers babysit Nick for me. Hey - he's a great kid, so they must have been doing SOMETHING right. And I don't have to pay them.

This morning I turned and saw that Nicholas had placed one of the prized colored discs from his Music Player toy on top of Nathan's blankets as he slept in his car seat. I just KNOW he was trying to share with his brother.

Today my mother left to go back to New York. Her knee was really bothering her, and I'm sure she'll feel more comfortable in her own space. Besides, her doctor is there. And I guess at some point I was going to have to face this having-two-children thing by myself...

Today I went to the grocery store with both kids for the first time.

Let's begin with the fact that I was starting out in a bad mood. Not only did I get less than enough sleep the night before, but I had also just received a call from the cleaning service (yes I use a cleaning service - please do not judge) telling me that they, once again, would have to reschedule because they didn't think they could make it up my driveway. (I might have had an over reaction to this one, but honestly, it wasn't so bad out today. I made it up my driveway, which doesn't always happen. And we're in New Hampshire - when are we going to reschedule TO? March? Sometimes when there's no snow? What do these people want from me?)

Anyway, at the grocery store I found one of those carts with the cars in front. Nicholas loved it - he hopped right in and started streering. The probelm was what to do with NATHAN. When Nick was in his car seat I used to just pop it in the front basket. It fit right in there. But this new grocery store has new baskets that DO NOT FIT THE CARRIER. When the carrier finally clicked into place Nate's feet were six inches above his head. I mean, he was almost upside down. But the carrier was too wobbly if it wasn't snapped in. So we ended up putting the whole carrier in the basket, leaving about a square foot of space for actual groceries.

At this point my mother was trying to convince me to get two carts. I ignored her because this was supposed to be a test run, and getting two carts wouldn't be a possibility the next time.

Everyone was very good while we shopped. Nate slept the whole time. Nicholas sat happily in the car until we reached the very last aisle and he climbed out while we were checking out. My mother refrained, for the most part, from impulse shopping, and only had to go back for a couple of items. She trailed behind us, but only by half an aisle's length. But her knee was really bothering her - she was limping the whole was, which kept us at a slow pace. My mother was also the one who put the ginger snaps in the cart, while I concentrated on frozen foods and milk.

Still, by the time we got home, I was a wreck. Instead of a trip to the store you would have thought I tried taking us all on a flight connecting through Heathrow. And it didn't end there.

Nate stayed asleep, but Nicholas started running all over as soon as we got home. I was trying to put the groceries away while my mother began making a roast for dinner. (FYI - it was 11AM.) My mother also fought me each time I tried to throw anything IN the fridge away. The burger meat I put in the freezer a month ago? She yelled at me for trying to pitch it. Same goes for the eggs whith a date of last week. FYI - she's still drinking from a bottle of skim milk dated January 13th.

I tried to make room in the snack cabinets by eating 6 cookies and throwing away the box. I also realized that we now have more food in the freezer than in the refrigerator - including 3 bags of chicken nuggets and many boxes of frozen peas.

My mother is going home tomorrow. I am not sure about how things will go. I will miss her cooking and doing the dishes, not to mention her being able to hold the baby while I do one thing or another. But I guess it is time. This way she can get medical treatment for her knee, and I can get back to cooking familiar meals and emptying out my freezer.

Nathan is a week old today.

I tried to think of something heartfelt and touching to say, but unfortunately, I'm too tired.

Nicholas is now officially a toddler.

It's not just that he seems bigger next to his baby brother, or even that he is speaking more, understands more, or jumps with both feet.

It's that he throws real, honest temper tantrums.

My mother purchased this toy for him - a Music Player Storybook with plastic discs that look kind of like CD's... the idea was great, since Nick LOVES CD's and CD players. But it backfired. Because the discs have to fit in the player EXACTLY the right way. Nick can get the disc in the player, but then becomes so frustrated at the fact that he can't turn it the right way that he looses his cool. Or maybe it's just that he wants the music to play while he holds the discs in his hands - I really don't know.

In any case, Nick has vented his frustration on the poor Music Player Toy, who can't help how it was designed. He hit it multiple times with the discs before I could intervene. When I did, he was still upset. So he then proceeded to BEAT HIS HEAD ON THE FLOOR.

He stands up and bends over in what looks like a very advanced yoga pose, then bangs his head on the floor. He always looks at me afterwards, as if daring me to yell at him. This behavior FREAKS STEVE OUT - I mean, he really can't stand it. And he yells at Nick to stop. But I have decided to ignore it. I don't think he would really hurt himself, I hink he's just trying to get us to react. So I won't.

It is strange, though, to see him do it, especially over something as silly as Music Player.

I forgot about the peeing.

I have already raised a baby boy to the ripe old age of 20 months. It wasn't that long ago that Nicholas was this small, and I was freaking out about putting vaseline on HIS circumcision wound. And I knew that, sometimes, babies pee on you when they get their diaper changed.

Today Nathan went through 5 outfits. Each time I went to change his diaper he would firehose the whole thing, usually just as I had finished applying vaseline to the diaper and was ready to end the whole operation. The clean diaper, the outfit he was wearing, and sometimes the shirt I was wearing would get covered in pee.

But the MAIN event took place around lunchtime, when Steve's mother and aunt came to visit. I took Nathan into the next room to change him. I couldn't help but let out a small yelp when he peed all over - it still takes me by surprise, I can't tell you why. SO then I cried out for Steve because I needed a new outfit.

And then, came the POOP. Nick POOPED a very liquidy poop in MY direction as I was trying to wipe up the pee. I right out screamed!

The worst part about the whole thing was that I then got a lot of useless help. My mother ran up to get clean clothes for the baby. Steve came in with paper towels, and Lillian - Steve's mom - came in and hovered over my right shoulder as I cleaned up the poop from the changing table and the baby and wiped every inch of Nathan's body with baby wipes. Then my mother came down with a pair of PJ's marked 3 to 6 months. "Too big?" she asked. Um, yeah. By a lot. The newborn stuff swamps Nate right now.

So I had to run upstairs and leave my naked baby in the care of these people, who were very interested in staring at the baby - not so interested in helping to clean up the poop.

Ever since then I have been careful changing his diapers. He still peed all over everything, but it was relatively uneventful and I managed to fix it in a few minutes with no sideshow, commentary, or helpful advice beeing handed out as I rush about.

I don't alphabetize the contents of my refrigerator or anything.

I feel like I had to state that up front, before I say anything else. Because it's important to know that I have a normal fridge, and that the stuff in there is normal. Sure, I usually keep my milk on the top shelf and the mustard in the door shelf, but it's not like I'll freak out if the butter is on the bottom shelf instead of the middle shelf.

My fridge has become someone else's.

Specifically, my mother's.

If you open my parent's fridge you'll find it completely full. There is hardly ever room for a bottle or a juice box. But the thing is, there's never anything TO EAT in there. It's a scary thing. It's mostly full of condiments and spreads and leftovers and produce that all look scary. There's never any telling just how long anything has BEEN in there. Because they never throw anything away. They just buy more. When my parents moved my mother - I swear - packed condiments to move. We cleaned the fridge out one time when I was home from college and found mint jelly from 1989. And this was the mid '90's.

I opened my fridge tonight to find cheese, and it was like entering a different dimension. There are bowls of leftovers I don't remember eating. And some I DO remember eating... last week. There's yogurt and deli meats from WEEKS ago, not to mention spreads and dips and vegetables in baggies that - I can tell you thins right now - NO ONE is going to eat. I couldn't FIND the cheese because there was so much other junk in there.

My mother does not like to waste food. Neither do I. I take care of that problem by buying only what I know we will eat, and cooking only what we need. My mother thinks she can take care of the problem by not throwing anything away so we can eat it later. The trouble is, we don't. While my mother insists the turkey from three weeks ago is still good I am sure it is not.

I think I need to sneak down and clean the fridge in the middle of the night. Because I am starting to store baby bottles for feedings, and I am frankly not going to be able to find them if I have to dig behind all the inedible stuff that's in there.

FOR ALL WAITING FOR BABY PHOTOS - THEY ARE COMING, I PROMISE.

This is short because I don't seem to have a lot of time today. I'm torn between practicing feeding with Nate - which has me in tears of pain and frustration - and trying not to feel guilty for not spending more time with Nicholas - which has me in tears of... some other kind.

Seriously, I left a baby in the crib the night I left for the hospital, and while I was gone he was abducted and replaced with a small boy. One who seems to say more, weigh more, and do more than the one I left behind. He has more hair. And it really saddens me that I do not have more time to spend with him. Right now my mother is here and Steve is home from work, but I have no idea who will play with him when they both leave us home alone during the day.

SO BY NOW YOU KNOW that I have had this baby, and that all is well, so far. I promise that, if you really want to know, I will email you all the gory details about the delivery and recovery and all that really fun stuff. Just let me know you're interested.

I also promise to post more photos, just as soon as I can download them from my camera. Oh - and take a few.

But today I need to post a TRUE STORY about Nicholas's visit to the hospital.

I was worried about being separated from my firstborn for so long, and I was also really curious to see how Nick would react to his new baby brother. It went surprisingly well. Nick hardly missed me, and he was only kind of interested in Nate.

At one point the Nurse came in to check on Nate. They do this about 47 times each day. The difference THIS time is that, not only was I in the room, but so was Steve... and Nicholas, and My mother, and Steve's mother. My little recovery room was packed with people.

Nate, of course, objected to being poked and having his diaper changed. He whimpered and cried a little bit - JUST a little bit - and then the nurse handed him back o my mother.

Steve, in an effort to form some sort of bond between brothers, lifted Nicholas up to the same level as Nate, who was still making a few noises. And predictably, everyone looked at Nicholas to see what he would do.

Nicholas looked right at Nate and said, very clearly, "Sha up."

I want to just say that Steve and I consider ourselves good parents. We have never told our child to "Shut Up" and we don't even speak that way to each other. In fact, after much discussion, we determined he must have picked it up while we were yelling at OUR DOG, Gunther, who likes to bark and the invisible forces pulling into their very own driveways across the street during naps and at 5am.

But however he learned it, he now knows what it means. His very first words to his new baby brother. Shut up.

I sense I have my work cut out for me.

Ok here we go. Since somebody has a really big mouth (or typing fingers as it may be), the cat's outta the bag.

Please welcome our second son, Nathan Phillip to the world. Born 01/16/06 at 11:22AM
Both Mom and baby are perfect, in fact by the time you read this, they likely will be home already. Nathan was born 7lbs 15oz...not too shabby at just under 8lbs. I believe that puts him in the welter weight division. Looks like he has dark hair like Mom.

Awesome work by Mom. Fleen is the best mom in the world and I couldn't ask for, or imagine anyone else as the love of my life, my wife.

If you haven't guessed yet based on the less-than-genteel posting, this is Mr. Savage 'imself.

Congratulations going out to my sister EMILY, who got into law school at UCLA!

This is the first school she's heard back from, so it's very exciting, and reassuring because she kjnows she got in somewhere. She still has a few months to go before she hears back from all her schools, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for her. Still, she got in to law school, which is more than I could do.
Since I get ill just thinking about taking a test or completing an application.


Other than this news, today is a dreary day. The ground is white, the sky is white, it's too slippery to go out...
I sometimes think of all the things I could do on a day like today. Watch a marathon of movies, do a puzzle, read a book... But I can't really DO any of these things with Nicholas. He doesn't seem to enjoy them AT ALL.
Truth be told, I have no idea what we're going to do today. He's 20 months old. What does a 20 month old do on a cold, cold, wet day? Other than bang the hardwood floors with his toys and try to balance on the living room furniture, which is what he's done so far. And of course I am irritated because he refuses to listen to me and get down on his own, forcing me to get up off the couch and MAKE him do it. And yet all I have to do is leave his line of sight before the squeeling and crying begins.

Today would be a good day to have a baby.

But the magic 8 ball says "not likely."

Introducing......







Kyler Crafton.

No, I haven't had my baby yet.

This little cutie is my cousin's new baby.... well, to be more specific, Kyler is my cousin's GRANDCHILD... Generations wise, Kyler is the equivalent and Nicholas having a child. Freaky, no?
Anyway, it's because my uncle was born 17 years before my mother, then had kids in his 20's, while my mother waited until she was in her 30's to have hers... and there you go. A Strange generation gap.

I think Kyler is a cutie. I DO have to admit I was a bit sore upon hearing of hic entry into the world, especially since his mom Stacey's due date was a good three days AFTER mine. (I think I actually shouted "It's not fair - I was supposed to go first!") But whatever. In the long run, everyone is healthy and doing well, and there is now a beautiful baby boy added to my rapidly extending family.

WHERE IS THE BABY?

That's what everyone seems to want to know.
Well, judging from what my doctor said on Wednesday, and also by the vicious kicking that takes place at 3am, the baby is still safely inside my bulging belly.

No one wants this baby out more than me.

But as Steve constantly, and irritatingly, keeps pointing out, the baby isn't actually DUE until January 17th. That's Tuesday of next week.

The doctor said they usually let pregnant ladies go a week past their dure dates before inducing. For me, that would be January 24th.

I do not WANT to be this huge for that long. My mother, who is here helping out, doesn't want to be here that long with no baby. Steve doesn't want this limbo state to drag on any longer... We ALL want the baby to come within the next twenty minutes in an amazingly fast birth that will make the evening news. (let's face it - I'm in New Hampshire. If I had a 20 minute labor it would probably make the evening news. )

But knowing that the doctor's have giving me and END to this hugeness and the torture and the chaos that is my homelife at the moment helps my outlook a lot. I had been having nightmares that I would end up like that Queen who was pregnant for 13 months, and never actually HAD the baby... nightmare stuff, I tell you.

Bloob
Poofiness.
Call it what you will, but today I stabbed myself in the tummy with a knife. I wasn't trying to off myself, and beleive it or not, I wasn't even trying to expidite the birthing process, despite my earlier posts.
I just don't realize where my body begins and ends anymore. There's so MUCH of it.

Today I take Gunther, my dog, to the vet.

And I am dreading it because I have been to the OB so many times lately.

I know this makes no sense, that the two places - although both medical buildings - are not otherwise related...

But still. I just dread the process.

At least this time I will have an adult helping me with the dog and Nick will be at home with Lillian. The last time I went to the vet I had 2 cats - each in his own carrier because they are both FAT - and a baby in a stroller because he couldn't walk yet. They needed to find someone to help me back to my car.

DOCTOR UPDATE:

I just want to put everyone's minds at rest. I went to the doctor today, and I have been assured that the baby? Yeah - IT 'S STILL IN THERE.

Just in case anyone thought it slipped out and I didn't notice or something.

OK - so today I have a doctor's appointment.

Unless she tells me something wonderful, like "hey, you're having this baby NOW! Isn't that a remarkable coincidence?" or "We've decided you need to take this massive dose of Pitocin RIGHT NOW." I will be looking for ways to get this baby out.

Betsy gave me the ideas she tried. I know Pitocin isn't the best, but at this point I'm willing to put up with the pain and discomfort and stuff. Even if they use a needle. Heck, I might even let them put one in my SPINE! Something I only considered for about 15 seconds during my last labor, and that was only until they told me I had another option.

So this afternoon I may go on a search for Raspberry Leaf tea. Since I have been known to do shots of balsamic vinegar when NOT pregnant (please don't ask - I admit I'm a freak) I somehow don't think they will help.

I have already tried things like eggplant parm and walking and letting Nicholas climb all over me and kick me in the belly. So far nothing has worked. Obviously.

So... that's it for me. I would classify my state of mind as "extremely miserable - exacerbated by the fact that I'm trying to be appreciative to my mother for all she's doing, that I'm trying to be appreciative to my husband for letting my mother move in with us for what may turn out to be quite a while, and that I'm trying to be as upbeat as I possibly can with my 19 month old baby who screams every time I leave the room, even if it is just to look up the word "exacerbate" in the dictionary."

Today's Secret: I have a bag of licorice and a diet Pepsi hidden in the car, and I plan on eating them both on the way to my doctor's office.

I am tired of having my belly rest on my legs when I sit down.

I used to live in fear of my water breaking in public, or in our bed with the medium expensive matress, or in our car... but now I don't care. I just want this over with, please.

I know I technically have a week to go before the due date, but I honestly don't know if I can make it that long without loosing my mind.

These days I get tired easily, but I am also walking more, squatting more, rolling around on the floor with my kid (OK - part of that is me trying to get up OFF the floor.) I am just trying to do anything that will SPEED THIS ALONG PLEASE.

If anyone has suggestions, please let me know. I'm open to anything (with the possible exception of the mac & cheese with A1. I just don't know if I could get it down.)

I am having this problem with Laundry.

Laundry is one of those things that happens, and it grows on you, and there's not much you can do about it except be naked a lot. And apparently babies bring laundry WITH them.

It seems silly - I mean, babies are so small. And their clothes are so tiny. I mean, how much laundry could you possibly GET from someone under 10 pounds? The answer is : A LOT. They poop and pee through their clothes and onto their blankets and bedsheets. They spit up all over themselves and their tiny bibs and onto your shirts and pants. And it's true - they DO have tiny clothes. So you have to sort through tiny shirts and pants no bigger than socks to figure out what is what once they come out of the dryer.

So when Nicholas was born and I got overwhelmed I made myself a promise: Laundry one day a week. I might spend ALL DAY doing laundry, but there was no way I would dedicate more time to it than that. And for a long, long time - over a year - it worked.

That is, until recently, when lugging a load of laundry upstairs became practically impossible without a nap afterwards.

So I made a change to my plan: laundry TWICE a week, but I would decide ahead of time how much to do. No "doing all of it" because that would send me over the edge, but I could do, say whites and darks, or towels and delicates... and if I had a few shirts that didn't make it, too bad. They would wait.

Well, my mother is now with us. I am not sure if it's her influence (although I know that my pillow cases do not get ironed when I am left to my own laundry devices - the horror) but we seem to be doing laundry EVERY SINGLE DAY. Not just one or two loads, but constant laundry. Sheets, towels, socks, bibs - it is driving me CRAZY. I have to say that loading a washer or dryer isn't that bad. It's the folding and sorting and putting away that I absolutely HATE. And I feel like I'm doing it ALL THE TIME!

So my question is, where does it all come from? I mean, I had all these clothes done in one day before. Why is it now taking three weeks to see the bottom of our hampers?

My mother's hsense of direction is horrible.

This is one of the reasons we worried when she was gone for 3 hours yesterday just to go buy a few groceries.

The BEST example I can come up with is one that took place when she was here when Nicholas was born. She decided that she would go to Wal-Mart to buy a few things. Now, we had been to Wal-Mart a few times at this point, and we gave her detailed directions on how to get there. But my mother being my mother, she lost her bearings almost as soon as she made the first turn.

She ended up back at the house a few hours later. It turned out she just kept driving, found a Wal-Mart truck on the road, and followed it until she got to a Wal-Mart. I asked her if it ever occured to her that the truck could have been LEAVING the Wal-Mart, but she didn't seem concerned. In fact, nothing about the situation seemed odd to her.

I am still not sure how she made it home.

I just want to end by saying that my mother is helping out a lot, and I have every respect for her. I don't want to diminish her skills as a cook or a cleaner or a whatever it is she does while she's here because I appreciate it too much.

That being said, I do worry when she borrows to car and leaves for hours. Practice for when my kids are Teens, I suppose.

I feel like I need to post every day. Regardless of how many people checking, I feel like, if I skip a day, someone out there will be thinking "THIS IS IT! SHE'S HAVING THE BABY!"

So even though I have had a completely uneventful day, I feel I should log in a report just to check in and assure you all that nothing, nothing, nothing is happening.

Except that my mother went to the grocery store by herself today. It's about 15 minutes away, and she was gone for 3 hours. She came back with 43 bags - I thought she was going to buy a few spices and vegetables. She ended up buying a TON of things we don't need, may not eat, purchased less than a week ago and haven't opened yet, etc. But she managed to NOT get some things we regard as staples - like diet pepsi or bread.

Oh - and she was very confused when we told her she had been gone a long time. Apparently she routinely spends 3 hours at the grocery store.

ALSO !!!!!! My brother Jamie, the one in Thailand, who is so cool and brave and funny? Well, he has his own blog. I don't know if he will get the chance to post every day, but I think it may be worth reading. Because he's funny and my brother. Check it out:

www.monstermaniac78.blogspot.com

Appliance Update:

This post is meant to update everyone on the appliances I have mentioned in my previous posts. Because I know you are all really anxious to know.

Bread Maker: I posted about my bread maker a while ago, and how it got Jiggy with it right off the counter and into the dog's water dish, breaking into plastic shards and exposing wires. Well, it turns out that it actually DOES still work! SUre, you have to reach under the panel and press the buttons from the inside to program it, but the bread turns out, and that is what counts, right?

Vacuum: Yesterday I mentrioned that my mother dust busted our entire first floor... I just want to be clear that we actually HAVE a vacuum. Three of them, in fact. My mother purchased two of them herself! But being my mother, she just got carried away chasing pine needles around the floor and before she knew it twenty minutes had gone by and she had been crouching her way around the house...

Furnace: The new one is installed and heating. The new water heater is installed and working. I took my first hot bath in this house EVER last night... and it was a wonderful experience. I couldn't get out of the tub. Part of that was probably due to my huge tummy and not having a crane to help me, but regardless it was a wonderful experience and I am happy to say the furnace works WELL!

End of appliance update.

I heard from my brother Jamie, who has just completed his 3 day trip to Thailand! His email is as follows:

My dear family,

I am writing to you from a town that has the same feel and temperature as Ste. Maxime, only it's about 500% cheaper and it has no bord de mer. My hotel room, runnng at a rate of $15 a night, has a pool right outside its door. Also, if your french sucks, or more relevantly, if your thai sucks, it doesn't matter because every single person I've talked to has spoken to me in english. I am on a hunt for a cell phone and the language immersion school I signed up for. I'll be in Chiang Mai until the 16th when I hop on a bus and go off to my site in Mae Sai. As soon as I figure out what my cell phone number is, I'll let you know. I like this place lots more than Taipae, where it was rainy and I found as many 7-11's as Starbucks in Manhattan.

My best,

Jamie

Jamie - if you read this, please don't get mad at me for posting your email. It's just that it's funny, and I was so happy to hear from you I had to share with the world.

Madness continues.

Today a couple of men came to install a new furnace / water heater. They drove in with two huge trucks, went down into the basement, turned off our heat, and you wouldn't know they were there except for the constant banging and - oh yeah - the fact that we have no heat.

Gunther, our dog, went nuts when they first arrived. Then he forgot they were there. But every once and awhile he remembers and starts barking hysterically, convinced we must be insane not to notice the banging in our very own basement! Of course he also barks this way when a car pulls into the driveway across the street.

Nicholas is still clinging to me like a poisonous vine. He screams and cries each time I use the bathroom - at this point that's every 20 minutes. In between fits he is jumping and pulling items off shelves faster than I - or anyone - can pick them up.

My mother is also here, working her magic. She is being very helpful, waking up with Nicholas while I sleep in, watching him while I nap, and she has been cooking dinner for us, too! No simple meals for us. She is not capable of making a meal with fewer than five dishes. I think her nesting instinct is stronger than mine. Not only did she vacuum our entire first floor with a dust buster this morning, but she keeps threatening to clean out our garage - something I really couldn't care less about, but that would send Steve over the edge. She is currently washing our dinner dishes, despite having no hot running water. She is heating water on the stove and using that. I told her to wait until tomorrow, but for some reason she won't do it.

And then there's me. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

I am having a problem with my child.

Not my unborn, yet-to-be-named child. My 18-month old, existing child. Nicholas.

Ever since my mother has arrived to help me as I waddle around the house and attempt to take care of him while I do laundry, shopping, and cook meals, Nicholas has become... attached. To me. He was fine at first, running around and being his usual self. But then, one day, I tried to use the bathroom by myself.

There's nothing quite like peeing while your toddler is on the other side of the door, pounding it with his fists, wailing and screaming. These were not "i didn't get my way" tears. These were "My mother has left me alone with these other people and I will never see her again" tears. The screams were sad and loud and I wanted to to whatever I could to stop them and heal the pain and make things better for my baby.

The "other people" in the room, by the way, would be my mother and Steve - yes, his FATHER. But suddenly dad isn't good enough.

And it's not just the bathroom.

Nicholas wants me to carry him up the stairs. He wants to to pick him up and hold him at the grocery store and while I make dinner. He wants ME to put on his socks and his coat. He wants ME to hand him his juice... all while carrying him and playing with him and sitting him on my lap as I pee.

And of course, I can't. I am carrying what is apprently a baby horse in my belly, and I just can't carry Nicholas up the stairs with a basket full of laundry without endangering all of our lives. Not to mention the fact that, any day now, hopefully sooner than later, I will give birth to this small horse in my belly and will need to actually devote some attention to HIM. And Nicholas will have to deal with the fact that I AM NO LONGER HIS.

What scares me is that he's started fighting this concept before horse-baby is even born. I am really really nervous about how this is all going to play out.

And before the baby gets home there is the time I need to spent in the hospital... time Nick will spend here, at home, alone with Grandma's and his father and whoever else happens to drop by... Have I mentioned the fact that I have never left my child alone for the night before?
Yeah.
This will be interesting.

Sharing a bed with someone is never as romantic as it sounds.

For one thing, unless you are tiny or have a huge bed, there is the space issue. Steve and I fight over space as if we were children. We have serioulsy drawn a line down the middle of the bed and measured the "extra inches" the other person is leaving unused betweeen said person's body and the edge of the bed.

With pregnancy, however, there come a host of other problems to exacerbate the situation. For one thing, I get really bad acid reflux. I can be in a deep sleep and suddenly the contents of my stomach will creep up into my throat and choke me. I am not not kidding. It is most unpleasant. I try to fix it by chewing tums and propping myself up on pillows. I also find that it helps to stay on my left side. Add to this the fact that, at rest, my breathing very heavy and I sound like a 400 pound man who has just raced up a flight of stairs.

When I'm on my left side I am facing Steve. For some reason he also seems to be most comfortable facing ME, on his RIGHT side. We end up having to do a lot of shuffling and propping up / down of selves to find a position we are both comfortable in.

Recently it has become so bad for Steve that HE has started complaining. I listen to his complaints with half and ear because I know that, however bad it is for him, he is not sleeping with a bowling ball in his abdomen, nor will he wake up with vomit creeping into his throat. Also, he sleeps in the middle of the bed with his elbow and hand on MY pillow while my leg is dangling off the edge of the bed, so...

But the other morning Steve told me we had had a particularly bad night. He told me that I was facing him, breathing very heavily. "I couldn't escape the wind your breath was creating," he said. "And because you had just chewed one of those Tums it all smelled sweet."

"It was a Cherry Monsoon," he said.

Cherry Monsoon. Now I can't climb into bed without thinking "Cherry Monsoon."

This is why I will never wear a bikini again.

I have been pregnant before. And although I knew that each pregnancy is different. I wasn't prepared for the different ways my two pregnancies would differ.

In this case the difference at hand would be stretch marks.

I remember (or at least I THINK I remember) talking to my friend Betsy about Stretch marks during her pregnancy. I told her I got them on my arms, on my hips, on my boobs... little white lines that were irritating, but that pretty much dissapeared once I had the baby and started getting my body back.

Well... apparently I had no idea what a stretch mark WAS. I was going through this pregnancy pretty much like the last one, using lotion getting bigger, and assuming that when I looked down every south of my belly button line looked pretty much like every thing north of my belly buttong line.

Because - and THIS is a huge joke right here - I CAN NOT SEE MY BELLY. I can see where my belly button used to be, but looking straight down, my line of vision stops there.

And then one day I happened to catch a glimpse of my naked form in the mirror.

I had been avoiding this because - let's face it - my naked body is not really very attractive right now. And I was surprised - VERY surprised - to see that someone had snuck in and drawn these huge ugly wiggly purple lines on my lower belly while I wasn't paying attention.

No, really, I just couldn't accept the fact that THIS WAS MY BODY. This photo will give you SOME idea - not only of how very very huge I am, but of the uglyness of these lines. (and let me just say it is very hard to take photographs of one's own stretch marks, especially when you can't see them and are just randomly aiming the camera)

Anyway, people have been really sweet to me where these stretchmarks are concerned. When I ran down crying to Steve and pointed them out to him, he told me he was sure they would go away, and that I had nothing to worry about. My brother Jamie told me that he had seen worse on folks at school who gained a bit more than the freshman fifteen in too short a time. Sweet of him, but I've SEEN those marks, those are the ones on my hips. They are not as huge or purple as the ones on my tummy.

My mother was pregnant 5 times, and she told me that she never got stretch marks like these. She asked me if the doctors had mentioned anything about the baby possibly being, well, HUGE, and then told me she would buy me special creme to reduce the marks after the baby is born.

In the meantime, I'm just glad I can't see them without performing stretches I usually reserve to tie my shoes. And once this baby is born I will be making my beach appearances in tummy covering t-shirts and stylish capri pants. No swimsuits for me, thank you.

WALK INTO THE LIGHT...

You know how, in all these movies, once a person dies they see a beam of light from above, and all they have to do is walk towards it to rise up and go to heaven ot the next level or whatever? Well, you know how in many of these movies someone doesn't follow the directions - either because they are angry or upset or have unfinished business like a girlfriend or a child or Demi Moore or something - and they MISS THEIR OPPORTUNITY and they become a ghost - a disembodied soul?

Well, I've been thinking. Could it be the same with childbirth? I mean, it may be entirely possible that this baby was supposed to be born several days ago, but I wasn't paying attention when the white light of labor pains started and nor I missed my opportunity. Now the baby will have to stay inside me FOREVER, kind of a ghost baby trapped inside my uterus until I eventually explode with terror and frustration and discomfort. Or maybe it will just keep growing until I have a ten year old trapped inside my tummy.

Seriously - at this point I really feel as though I will NEVER actually go into labor. I'm a step away from driving to my OB's office and just begging for a quart of petocin.

My mother is showing up this afternoon to help take care of Nicholas and the house. Thank goodness. Not that I'm expecting her to do too mugh, but at least I can have someone play with Nick while I do the things I need to do - one of the hardest things is balancing making dinner or doing dishes with Nicholas.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Last night Steve and I celebrated the New Year by watching a Netflix film, eating pigs in a blanket, and both passing out before midnight.

And by "passing out" let me be clear that only one of us was drinking anything remotely interesting, and it wasn't me. We're just that old and that lame. And that tired.

I DID wake up at 12:30 to pee (and 3:30, and 6:15) but I didn't bother waking up Steve to celebrate. It just wasn't worth it.

Today I spent the day putting away Christmas ornaments and willing this baby inside me to work its way out. I welcome the labor. No, really, I do. I'm so excited for it I could scream. It's worse than waiting for Christmas because there is no set date. It could be at any time. "Now," I tell it. "The time is NOW? What do you need? Christmas decorations put away? I'm on it. You need me to stock the freezer? Done."
I swear I think there is something in particular this baby is waiting for before making it's arrival, and if I could just figure out what it was....

Anyway... besides being old and lame and not being able to stay up to 11, let alone midnight, I have a one track mind these days. I try to hide it and pretend that I'm doing these things for my family, for the house, etc. But it's all a front. It's for me. To get my body back and turn it into a giant mobile milk factory.