Coq Au Vin

I have not really cooked dinner in a month. I had the flu for 2 weeks and finally overcame all of that morning sickness mess but truthfully, I just haven't felt like cooking. Poor JD hasn't had a decent, warm meal prepared by his wife in so long, I thought I would make him something fancy tonight: coq au vin. I used this recipe.

First, chop the bacon.

Brown it in a dutch oven. Dutch oven, hehehe.

Season and flour the chicken and brown in the bacon drippings.

Add the veggies to the pan drippings and cook until tender.

Add everything back into the Dutch oven along with wine and all other ingredients. Simmer.

Cover and cook in the oven for 40 minutes. Play with a baby girl until the timer goes off.

Serve over rice and wow your poor, starving husband.

15 Weeks

I've been feeling pretty good this week. It has rained a bunch so we have only taken 1 walk to the park and that makes me feel a little more wobbly than last week. Sigh. I think I'm ready to admit how much weight I've gained. 5 lbs. I read in a pregnancy book that by 15 weeks, a 5 lb weight gain is perfectly normal. I'm okay with the 5 extra lbs - it's the fact that I gained them in a week that bothers me. Oops. I blame all of the yummy wedding food we had last weekend. Does that mean I gained 5 lbs in a weekend??? Oy. 


Stats


Weight gain: 5 lbs. In a weekend. Gross.
Stretch marks: None.
Movement: Mostly gas. And just so everyone's clear, when I say gas I mean the kind that rumbles in my belly, not my butt. Mmkay?
Cravings: Salad.
Sleep: Minus a few snake dreams, I've been sleeping great this week. And not Freudian snake dreams, just your regular viper snake biting me on the toe.
Best moment of the week: When I get Beatrice up in the mornings, she points to my belly and says "mama baby" then pats her belly and says "baby baby." She has a baby in her belly too.
Gender: Praying for a girl, preparing for a boy.
Labor signs: None.
Belly button: In.
What I miss: Bras that fit comfortably. Things are getting out of control in that area.
What I'm looking forward to: My OB appointment on Wednesday. I love my doctor and I always come up with some interesting questions for her.
Weekly wisdom: People can be cruel. Guard your heart and keep close to Him.
Milestones: Photography no longer makes me sick. Did I tell y'all about that? Around Christmas when I was 5 weeks along, I started to get very nauseated every time I took or looked at a photograph. I am just now getting over that sick feeling when I see or take a photo. Weird huh?

Belly shot. The baby's the size of an orange this week.

Blog Stuff

On Wednesday, the blog was featured on a great blogging community site called SITS. It links up over 8000 fellow bloggers and encourages each other to comment and support other blogs you might not ever link up with. It was kind of overwhelming the amount of visitors and comments I received. It was really cool and made me so glad to be apart of a community of bloggers that are thoughtful and interested in things that others have to say. I have about 25 new followers from my feature day alone so I thought I better do a little intro for the new folks. Welcome new folks!

If you're like me, when you find a new blog that you like, you get stuck for hours hitting the older posts button at the bottom of the page because you want to "get to know" that blogger by reading everything they ever wrote. While most of what I have written is semi-interesting (I hope), some of it is not. So I added a new tab at the top called Best of Aly for those who want to read some of the older posts, but only the good ones. These posts are my favorites for one reason or another but be sure to check it out for some interesting/funny/ridiculous reads.

Hopefully you have all figured out the language of this blog. I am sarcastic. I am funny. More funny-random than funny-haha I've been told. I really hope no one has walked away feeling offended or angered by what they have read. I do not hate the cat. My child doesn't eat an actual prisoner's diet. I don't really think boys are gross (see post below). I use sarcasm and my unique sense of humor to write about issues that bother/interest/perplex/happen to me. I don't make up stuff about our life, but I do embellish stories with humor and sarcasm. The general rule for reading my writing is if it seems ridiculous, it probably should not be taken literally. I am exaggerating my feelings and using humor to write about it. I have found that most people who read and like my blog like my sense of humor - that's why they stay around. But there have been a few comments from new folks that think I am a terrible person for the way that I write. I think they may have missed the humor and sarcasm. I definitely don't mean to offend anyone by what I write, but you should also know that I may write some things that you don't agree with. I think about all of this when I write, but ultimately I write for myself with my readers in mind. You may not agree with it all, but please don't take it all very seriously. If it's outrageous, it's meant to be funny.

That's about it. I'm so thrilled to have new readers and I hope you like what you read here. Check out the Best Of Aly section to catch up on what I've been up to for the last year. Thanks for following me and supporting the blog!

Nightmare

Last night I had a nightmare. I woke up all sweaty with my heart pounding. I was terrified and shaken and had to take a moment to convince myself that it was just a dream and not real life. I dreamed that baby #2 was a boy.

I don't know why I'm so terrified of having a boy. Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly why, but the reasons are too dumb to admit on the internet. I think it boils down to the fact that I don't think I'd be a good mother to a boy. I hate sports and secretly hope Beatrice wants to skip soccer and t-ball for ballet and gymnastics. If I had a boy, I would be the mom on the sideline playing Angry Birds on my phone instead of watching the game. Boys are messy and pee all over the seat. Both of my little brothers had dried boogers plastered all over their walls because they picked their noses at night. Gross, gross, gross. Boys like bugs and snakes and I have irrational fears of such things. I recognize my weaknesses and raising boys does not seem like something that I'd be very good at. So as you can see, my fears about having one are kind of valid.

I have spent all day trying to convince God why I need another girl. I know how to teach girls how to be godly women because I am one. I like kitties and horses and pink and dresses and shoes and all kinds of girl stuff. I can do some pretty awesome little girl hairdos. I'm good at being a girl and if I only have girl children, we can be good at being girls together and everyone wins. Mmmkay, God? Pretty please? Puhleeeeeeeeeez??? 


JD says I'm being ridiculous. He knows all of my true reasons for being afraid of having a boy and says I need to embrace the challenge of tackling something that I'm not fully comfortable with. I say phooey. I really want another girl and I'm just hoping that God considers the thoughtful and poignant presentation I pitched to Him today. We shall see in 5 more weeks.


I'm totally gonna have a boy, aren't I?

The Couch

When JD and I got engaged, we bought a new couch. At the time, all of my furniture was hand me downs from my mom and grandmother. And while my olive green velvet couch was the envy of Burton St., I longed for something new. Something grown up. Something that hadn't been sat upon by countless random rear ends for the last 30 years.

We found that something while shopping for lamps one afternoon a few months before the wedding. When I saw it, I fell in love. The couch was tailored yet plush. Sophisticated and comfortable. Neutral but stylish with coordinating paisley pillows and armchair. It was perfect. I petted it and feigned all over it while JD tested the comfort level. It seemed to be perfect for us and all I had to do was say, "honey, what do you think?" and we were writing up the ticket for our new living room ensemble. I was elated.

The furniture was delivered about a week later and for several months, it suited our needs perfectly. The couch looked great with our other furniture and decor. It was long which meant my abnormally tall body could lay on it without having to bend my knees or hang my feet off of the end. We really enjoyed our new furniture............ until visitors came over and said terrible things about it.

You see, our couch is really deep. This makes for great lounging, but when you want to sit and talk or, you know, get up off of the couch, it takes some special maneuvering. Being tall, this isn't much of a problem for me, but my 5 ft sister in law basically has to roll her body off of the thing or else she is stuck in the deep, soft cushions that back up to deeper, softer pillows. The couch is basically made of clouds and if comfort's your thing, you will love it. But if you just want to sit down every once in awhile, you will probably hate it like all of our guests.

After 3 years of lying on this couch, the cushions are misshapen and flat. The paisley print that I once loved irritates me. The comfort level is gone because nursing babies requires a little back support and this couch has zero. Because it is made from marshmallows and cumulous cloud formations. 

The bottom line? This couch sucks. But for some strange reason - probably because it is my first piece of "adult" furniture - I am very defensive about it. If someone says something derogatory about our couch, I automatically chime in and say, "oh it might be hard to get up out of but it's very comfortable and WE LOVE IT." It's like having a child that is totally unruly. You know it, everyone else knows it, but as the parent of that child you cannot say anything bad about him/her because they're yours. You make excuses for the child. You try to mention their good traits, but at the end of the day, you're not kidding anyone. That kid needs to be grounded and we have a lousy couch. Let's just call a spade a spade.

I'm at the point where I can admit that I hate the couch, but I don't know how long you're supposed to keep furniture before you replace it. Growing up, I slept in the same bed until I got married. I only remember 2 couches in my mom's living room: her country blue one with the mauve accent pillows (1990s) and the hunter green/burgundy plaid one (2000s). Granted we were kind of poor growing up, 3 years still seems like not enough time to get your money's worth out of a couch.

It's to the point where JD says something about how stupid our couch is every day. I try to think of ways to revamp it, but I need to just face it: our couch sucks. I have a friend with the exact same furniture and when she saw a picture of our place, the first thing she said was, "ohmygoodness, don't you hate that couch?" Sigh. Yes okay, I hate the freakin' couch. It's a big, dumb, uncomfortable sorry excuse for a piece of furniture. But until I can figure out the appropriate lifespan for an expensive couch, we will continue to inconvenience guests with discomfort and awkward sitting arrangements because it is all we have. If anyone is in the market for a lovely, plush, comfortable couch GREAT for lounging, call me!

The Club

When I had Beatrice, I fully expected to be welcomed into the not-so-secret-but-pretty-exclusive parenthood club. The one that welcomes new members with open arms and loads of support. We were all in this thing called child rearing together, after all. We would need each other. While I did find myself in this so-called "club" upon birthing my first child, I found it to be anything but supportive. There is more judgment than support, more criticism than approval, and more division than encouragement. This community of parents has the potential to really help, but instead most often tears others down leaving them feeling completely alone.

I found out right away that other parents have a lot of opinions on how you feed your child. Whether or not you breast feed or formula feed, someone else has something to say about it. To your face. I did breast feed and while I was met mostly with support and accolades from others, I found it interesting (and kind of weird) that other folks felt so strongly about those that do not breast feed. It was as though other parents knew what was best for another family and clearly, it was breast feeding. But the major atrocity was if you didn't breast feed, your membership in the club was earmarked for nonconformance. You were flagged for being different and that my friends, is frowned upon. Just so you know, us breast feeders weren't celebrated by everyone. I got the occasional "when are you going to start feeding that baby real milk (aka formula) because she is obviously starving?" Arrrgh. 


As your child gets older, you can fully expect to be judged on your discipline methods. If you spank, you are automatically out of the club. Your membership is revoked and you are blacklisted forever. If you use any method of discipline deemed acceptable by your grandmother's generation, you might as well hand over your ID card because you will be banned for lack of open mindedness. It suits everyone best if you just don't speak about how you plan to or currently are handling the discipline in your household. You will be judged to high Heaven no matter what you say. Trust me on this.

The list of examples of how parents tear each other apart instead of build each other up is endless. The debates rage on about vaccines and medicine and education, but instead of simply debating these subjects, we are attacking other people for their differences. It's as if we are threatened beyond coping abilities at the differences we see in other people's parenting decisions. I say as long as no one is abusing a child, live and let live people.

I have been labeled an alternative parent. This just means that I don't follow suit with the newest child psychologists' theories on how to feed/sleep train/discipline/etc. I tend to take my grandmother's advice over my neighbor's. We take parenting classes at church instead of reading the latest secular child rearing book. I'm totally okay with being different. I am learning to be okay with being criticized from parents that do things differently. I'm not okay with being called a bad parent because I choose to parent differently than the masses. But that's what happens when you don't follow suit.

It has been such a huge disappointment to learn that my fellow new mommies judge me for taking away Beatrice's pacifier at 11 months. Or whatever thing we moms judge each other for. It's disheartening to know that if I really do need support during a temper tantrum or a nap strike, I cannot call on any ol' mommy to hear my woes. The chances of me getting berated for what I think is an appropriate course of action is greater than sympathy and well wishes from someone that doesn't do things exactly like me.

This is sad. I'm not naive enough to believe that everyone will agree, but I don't think it's too far fetched to respect other parents' decisions to make different choices. This community of parents has so much potential to support others and be a place to learn other approaches to parenting, but if we are constantly judging and tearing each other down for our differences, that will never happen. We will be stuck in a club that really only accepts those that do things exactly like everyone else.

14 Weeks

I'm a little late on my weekly progress report but I have valid excuses. My brother's wedding, lots of resting, and eating everything in sight has kept me pretty busy this week. I feel completely better. The flu ick is gone along with the morning sickness. I should be pretty happy about these things - and I am - but it basically means that in no time I will be eating 2 breakfasts and purchasing whole cakes as an afternoon snack. I gain a lot of weight while pregnant, and this week validates that. Sigh.

Stats


Weight gain: I don't think I want to play this game anymore. At least not weekly. Since this is my blog and I'm starting to gain ridiculous amounts of weight in a matter of days, I'm going to withhold answering this portion of the stats. At least until my next doctor's visit next week.
Stretch marks: None.
Movement: It's hard to tell. I'm feeling the tiny, bubbly flutters I've been feeling for a few weeks now, but they could very well be fluttery gas bubbles.
Cravings: Everything. Enough said.
Sleep: I've been sleeping great. And with Beatrice sleeping until 9 a few mornings this weekend, I am feeling mighty rested these days.
Best moment of the week: Stepping into the 2nd trimester and realizing that I only have 5 more months to meet this baby.
Gender: I'm starting to wonder if it's a girl since I keep having girl dreams.
Labor signs: None.
Belly button situation: In, but surrounded by a big, fat belly full of apple fritters and Girl Scout cookies.
What I miss: Red wine sips would be nice every once in awhile.
What I'm looking forward to: Finding out the sex in a few weeks.
Weekly wisdom: Indulging in filet mignon 2 nights in a row along with lots of wedding cake results in more than a few extra pounds....
Milestones: I can no longer say that I have not gained any weight with this pregnancy yet.

Picture? Why yes!

Here's one from 2 years ago with Beatrice.

I think I'm bigger this time around.

They Did

My little brother married his Jenni this weekend. It was beautiful and emotional and joyous.

I love weddings. They remind me of the promises that JD and I made to each other almost 3 years ago. They remind me of the love that Christ has for His Church, His Bride. They remind me of God's purpose for couples and the magnitude of a love shared for Him. I'm a big ol' sack of emotions during weddings and this one was no different.

I just happened to try on my dress 2 nights before the wedding to discover that the strap kit accompanying the dress did not hook or snap in. Thank God for mother's in law with sewing skills and spare time.

We are all so thrilled to have grown 1 more family member larger this weekend. Congrats Grant and Jenni. May your lives be filled with happiness and love and as many babies as you want. I love you both.

Old Lady Stuff

When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to grow up. I thought that there could be nothing better than not having to go to bed at a certain time or do what your parents said. It took much longer than I preferred, but I did eventually grow up. I remember the first time at 18 when I told my mom what time I'd be home. She didn't seemed too fazed by my statement, but it was a defining moment to be able to tell the woman that dictated my every move for the previous 17 years that I may or may not be home until morning. I was a grown up and it was going to be awesome.

And for the next 11 years, it has been. I eat what I want for dinner, I go where I want during the day, I get to sleep in a bed with a man every night and no one gets to say a thing about it because I am an adult. And married, duh. Being a grown up is as great as I thought it would be as a kid. Except growing up means that eventually, you will be old. And there doesn't seem to be anything awesome about that. Sorry old people. 


All of my friends are turning 30 this year. I am the baby of the group and will only be 29 (next month). My old(er) friends are all freaking out. 30 isn't old, but it does mark the end of the twenties. I haven't thought much about being 30 since I still have another year to go, but with so many 30 year old cakes I've partaken in the few months, I've started to think about getting older. And I don't like it one bit.

The hardest part to reconcile is my fleeting physical youth. I noticed my very first wrinkles this past year and y'all, I can't handle them. They taunt me from their perch on my forehead screaming silently, "there's more of us yet to come and you're gonna have us FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!" I hate those taunting wrinkles. There's also my old lady back and my creaky knees. My hip pops when I walk. I relish a good night's sleep more than a fun late night and I will always choose a sensible meal instead of a gluttonous treat because let's face it, my old lady gastrointestinal system pays for it hard when I throw a wrench in the system. I may still be in my twenties, but I'm getting old.

I realize that 30 is not old, not even middle aged. But it does mark the end of youth. I will no longer be considered a child bride. I was 26 when I married my older man of 33. I will no longer be a kid in my twenties. I will no longer have the freedom to say, "I'll think about it when I'm older." 30 is older. And while those things aren't tragic, waking up with wrinkles and gray hair is. Okay maybe not tragic, but alarming when you're used to waking up looking young and vibrant. 


Next month I will blow out 29 candles and celebrate the end of my youth. I don't think I'll be terribly sad about that considering I have wonderful things in my life, but I will miss the glow of youthful skin and taut skin/body parts. Goodbye youth, you were fun while you lasted.

Love Day

When JD and I first started dating, he was very romantic. He wrote love emails, he bought flowers, he wooed. I loved it. After we got married, he stopped doing all of those things. Abruptly and with seeming purpose, he just stopped. I often ask him why he stopped. "I still need love. I need to be wooed," I say. He explains that he's got me now, there is no need to bother with romantic nonsense. I'm not going anywhere so his romantic days are behind him. Hmmph.

I like romance. I need romance. So I try to contrive it. I force JD to kiss me, I make him stare lovingly in my eyes for x amount of minutes, and I make him write me love letters. He complies, but it is so not heart felt. Even though I realize that all of the romance I try to create is not real, I still do it. Because I need it. And just participating in romantic behavior makes me feel like romance is still alive when it is so clearly dead.

Valentine's day has never been one of our more romantic days. Our celebrating usually consists of an exchange of cards and some candy. It is very low key and if he were to forget, I would not mind much at all. But on the most contrived love day of the year, my unromantic husband did his very best to rev up his romantic engine. He surprised me with a love card and my favorite candy. We were all set to go out to dinner but Beatrice caught the funk that I have had so we stayed in with her. Our Valentine's date turned into an evening on the couch with a feverish baby girl, The Bachelor, and some scrambled eggs. After Beatrice went to bed, I looked over at JD and made a joke about how romantic our night turned out to be. He said that he was more content being home with his girls than being anywhere else. We were parents now and sometimes our plans had to be altered for the sake of sick babies.

I realized that our relationship has a lot of romance. He may not woo me like he did when we were dating, but he takes care of me like no one before and he considers me. He may not buy me flowers on the regular, but he always saves the good cereal for me and never makes me wait to spit out the toothpaste when we're brushing our teeth. The couple that brushes together, stays together. Our brand of romance may not be the traditional kind (or even the recognizable kind), but it's ours and it's real. Even when it's contrived.

Second Trimester

Hello world. I am still alive. The flu did not take me out, thankfully. My K genes prevailed and I barely survived kicked influenza's caboose to the curb. The last 2 days have been the first in over a week that I actually felt alive and attempted to stay awake for the entire day. The flu is behind me, and for that I am grateful.

Our littlest one is trucking along too. We saw the little baby for the first time last week during the NT scan. "It" is doing just fine, growing and kicking and being a good little fetus. See for yourself.

This week marks the beginning of the second trimester. This pregnancy has flown by compared to last time. Having a toddler does that. My belly has grown this week. A lot. I know this week's bump growth is not a food baby because I have been living on cereal and chicken soup all week. Food babies require cheeseburgers and pizza and cake to really thrive, know what I mean? This bump is all human baby.

Stats

Weight gain: Maybe a pound but I only weighed once this week fully clothed WITH boots on. That is a cardinal sin in the get-on-the-scale world. My only excuse was that I was sick and simply didn't care about my clothes and shoes adding a few extra el bees on the scale.
Stretch marks: None.
Movement: I'm 95% sure that those bubbles in my belly are that sweet baby up there.
Cravings: None. Other than health. I just crave health for the rest of my life.
Sleep: Meh. Sick sleep is the worst. I need some good sleep this week pleaseandthankyou.
Best moment of the week: Seeing the little guy/girl on the ultrasound AND getting the good test results back.
Gender: I want a girl. I think it's a boy.
Labor signs: Nope.
Belly button situation: In.
What I miss: My True Religion jeans. They fit a few weeks ago. Not so much now. I'm reacquainted with my old friends, jeggings.
What I am looking forward to: Wearing maternity clothes. I'm ready to rock this bump.
Weekly wisdom: Flu or not, it is so important to take care of your body and treat it well.
Milestones: 2nd trimester baby!

Here's a picture for your viewing pleasure.

Uggggggggggh

Remember when I wrote this? Yeah, that was pretty awesome. You know what would be even more awesome? If it were still true. I, despite all of my superhuman K genes, have contracted the flu. It has been the worst physical thing I have ever been through. Worse than natural childbirth because with that, I knew that it had to eventually be over in a day or 2. The flu? It can last a 2 weeks at minimum. Oh boy.

I started feeling sick last Thursday. My sore throat turned into sneezing and wheezing, then by Monday the extreme fatigue set in. Thankfully JD was off from work to watch Beatrice while I slept all day. Tuesday I realized that what was afflicting my once superior immune system was no mere common cold. I had sweats and chills, a low grade temperature, and I slept all day. All day. I called my OB on Wednesday morning and she told me to get to my primary care physician for a flu test. I did and it was confirmed that I have the dreaded illness. But the best part of this whole story? I waited too long to get any flu meds. Apparently you have 48 hours to get to your doc to get the miracle flu drugs. Since I waited 6 days, I was out of luck. Plus, there is nothing safe to take during the first trimester of pregnancy except Tylenol. So, much like natural childbirth, I am having to endure this whole mess without the aid and relief of modern medicine. Lucky me.

Despite feeling the sickest I have ever, ever felt in my whole entire life, I am blessed to have loads of family in town to take care of Beatrice. Today she went to play in the snow with uncle Seth and aunt Jenny. Yesterday she played with Grammy and Bop. My best friend came over on Tuesday to bathe her and put her to bed. I would feel guilty about being totally absent from her sweet life for several days, but she is soaking up the attention.

Today, I am hesitant to say that I am feeling better. Tonight is uncle Seth's birthday dinner at Mellow Mushroom and I'm pretty sure my cure might be found in the Kosmic Karma pizza so I am willing health back into my body so I can go and prove my theory true. And I'm praying. Because last night, I read on the internet that you can die from the flu. And I don't want to die. Not from the flu. Be well friends and don't catch the flu.

Let's Check In On Mah Fetus, Shall We?

Today I am 12 weeks pregnant. This pregnancy is so different than last time. I have been sick almost the entire time with morning all day sickness. It has been rough, especially while trying to keep up with a toddler. But hopefully, with only a week left in the first trimester, I will be feeling better soon. Please dear Lord let me feel better soon. 

Stats

Weight gain: NONE! This thrills me. By 12 weeks pregnant with Beatrice, I had already gained 10lbs. Things are looking up for this pregnancy already. Except for being sick. But at least I'm still skinny!!!!!
Stretch marks: NONE! I never really got any with Beatrice so I don't expect to get any this time around either.
Movement: I could have sworn I have felt those flutters all weeks but I'm pretty sure it's just gas. Pregnancy does weird things to your digestive track. Just sayin'.
Cravings: To not be nauseated every moment of the day. That's all.
Sleep: Pretty darn good, when I can. Insomnia plagues me a few nights a week, but otherwise I sleep like a baby, with a baby in mah belly.
Best moment this week: Hearing the heartbeat. I love that sweet lub-dub.
Gender: I keep having girl dreams but I think it's only because I want another girl so badly. Methinks it's a boy....
Labor signs: Nope.
Belly button situation: In and all normal and cute still. Just wait.
What I miss: Feeling like a functioning human being.
What I am looking forward to: Seeing the little babe on the ultrasound tomorrow for the NT scan. And praying for a good report!
Weekly wisdom: I really try not to complain too much about my overall misery because I realize that conceiving and carrying a child is a gift and blessing from God.
Milestones: The baby is fully formed now and looks less amphibian and more human. Yay human baby!

And now for a belly picture. Don't mind my pajama pants/turtle neck sweater combo. It's kind of my trademark to wear my shirt from the day to bed with comfy PJs. I'm aware that it's not normal and I'm totally okay with it. You should probably get used to it now. You'll be seeing many similar ensembles in the weeks to come.

It's a tiny little baby bump. Actually if I hadn't gained any weight whatsoever, I would be inclined to think that it was a food baby. But alas, I do believe that's my uterus poking through my former flat, rock hard abs. So that's what's been going down this week. I've just been growing humans. What have you guys been up to?

Saving Lives, One Night At A Time

JD snores. Bad, but only when he's sleeping on his back. Which is about half the night. So it's a problem. My problem apparently because he sleeps just fine through all of that log sawing. I, however, do not. The solution is pretty simple. It involves a few quick jabs in his side and a "honey, roll over you're snoring" and voila, he rolls over and the snoring ceases. Except the next morning he gives me this annoying lecture on how I better not be messing with his sleep by waking him up, blah blah. He claims that if he's snoring, it means that he's sleeping really, really good. I, on the other hand, am not.

After some other weird sleep issues, JD was prompted to see a specialist for a sleep study. He had to sleep in a clinic while hooked up to a bunch of monitors. He said that it was awful, nurses kept coming in to check on him and reposition him if he moved something connected to him. There were lots of interruptions. He said it was much like a night at home with me. Hmmph. We got the results of his sleep study on Monday and he is normal except for some restless leg syndrome. Don't get me started on the freakin restless leg. Oy. That's a whole other blog post. The snoring, however is a sign of not breathing efficiently enough. His body is struggling for air so his nose morphs into a chainsaw and basically chops the air into tiny(er) particles to fit into his lungs. Or something like that. The doctor's prescription? HAVE HIS WIFE WAKE HIM UP! Or sew tennis balls into pockets on the back of his shirt which is just plain weird. Not to mention impossible since he sleeps shirtless. But I digress.

Basically, it all boils down to the fact that I have been saving his life every time I elbow him in the ribs.
JD is not thrilled about what the doctor said. He hates admitting that his wife is not wrong. He hates it so much that he can't even say that I'm right. Just "not wrong." Thankfully the snoring has not been an issue in a few days. The doctor also said to avoid sleeping on his back so he has been side sleeping, thus not snoring. I told him he should be able to sleep way sounder now knowing that I'm there to keep him alive and breathing no matter what. He is beyond thrilled. At least he's stopped with the lectures.

Done

I nursed my baby toddler for the last time this morning. I didn't know it at the time, but after coming to terms that she's just not that into it anymore, today I decided to be done.

This has been a very emotional decision for me. When I went to my first OB appointment at 5 weeks, my doctor told me to stop nursing. There are mixed opinions, but certain studies suggest that breast feeding while pregnant can cause preterm labor and other complications. I'm not sure where I stand on this debate because I've read valid points on both sides of the argument. But the thought of trying to wean while I was about to give birth only to have to start the whole shebang over again with baby #2 didn't sound appealing. And Beatrice was ready. So I have been weaning. And crying and crying.

I cried because as long as I've been a mommy, I've been nursing. It is apart of our relationship, our bond. I wondered how she would react to stopping and that made me cry. Thinking of her begging me for boovies while I denied her the only milk she's ever known was almost too much to bear. But as I dropped feedings, I realized that she didn't even notice. She was over it. And that made me cry most of all.

This morning I got up and greeted my smiling baby toddler standing in her crib. I took her to the changing table to change her diaper wondering if she would ask for boovies. She did and I was relieved. So much of me is not ready to let go of this with her. We rocked and nursed for approximately 1 minute. And she was done. She slid off of my lap and asked for her snack. With my boovies still out and about I asked if she wanted more milkies and she said no while shaking her head back and forth. She was done.

So that's it I suppose. It would be kind of gross to keep forcing my boovies on her if she's not into it anymore. I'm okay with that, I think. It's just hard and sad to end that chapter that we both began together 15 months ago without so much as a goodbye. Just a no. "No more boovies, mommy. Sheesh." JD makes fun of me when I cry. When I explained that I have no baby to nurse anymore he said that in about 6 more months I will have another and I get to start all over again. He's right. It's not easy though. I don't know how to be a mommy that doesn't nurse. I guess I will just have to learn. And cry.