I'm on Blogger Maternity Leave!

The new baby is here! So, I'm going to take a break. (No, I can't take a break from my full-time mom duties, but blogging will have to be put on hold, for at least a while.)


But don't fret! You can still get your The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly fix! Just take a peek back at my past posts, using the links to the right. And I'll be back soon with some more snarky insights and misadventures of being a full-time mom!


In the meantime, I'll be thinking of a blogger nickname to give the little guy. Any suggestions?

Return of the Diaper Bag

I had given away my old diaper bag. I didn't need it anymore, with both my kids potty-trained, and we weren't sure if we were going to have anymore kids. I didn't really liking this particular one in the first place, and I found it impractical even when I did need it. So, it was donated, along with all my other maternity and baby items, about 2 years ago.

Well, now I needed one. Baby number three is on his way, and I have nothing to carry all the miscellaneous items that comes with having a child in tow. So, after much searching, we found a simple, yet roomy and practical, bag that both Hubby and I would be comfortable holding: messenger strap, gender neutral colors, with all the pockets we needed. Man, this thing was huge! Much bigger than the cute little purse I've been toting around for the past two years! Did I really need all this room?

So I thought I test it out, making sure it could hold all we needed. But... what did we need? It had been about three years since I carried around a diaper bag, and I had totally forgotten what all goes in there. I mean, I obviously knew the diapers go in there, and the wipes... and stuff to feed the kid. But what else?

As every woman in my generation would do, I Googled "what goes in a diaper bag," and was led to several helpful websites. Here's what they all (pretty much) listed:

• Diapers (more than you think you'll need -- one for every hour you'll be out)
• Wipes
• Changing pad
• Diaper-rash cream
• 2 burp cloths
• 1 receiving blanket
• Extra sweater, shirt, pants, and pair of socks for baby
• Hat (sun hat for sunny days, knit cap for cold days)
• Baby sunscreen
• Baby bottles, depending on how long between feedings
• Formula (if you use them)
• At least one toy or book
• Baby's favorite comfort item
• 2 bibs
• Two pacifiers (if you use them)
• Plastic bags for tossing dirty diapers or wrapping up soiled clothes
• Extra shirt for you for unexpected spills
• Personal items for you like cell phone, wallet, etc.

After packing all that stuff up, the diaper bag was now curiously tiny. What happened? Where was I supposed to keep my lipstick? And how was I supposed to carry this monstrosity? It was all coming back to me... the Revenge of the Diaper Bag! I thought carrying my baby around for nine months was heavy? This thing was enormous, cumbersome, and heavy! And I had been sentenced to carry it (along with my baby, his car seat, and any other necessary gear) for the next 2 to 3 years!

Maybe that's what the last nine months of "weight-lifting" had been training me for! No wonder I had conveniently blocked this part out of my memory!

I waved goodbye to my purse. Goodbye cute little clutch, with my lipstick, compact, cell phone, and wallet. Hello, large, bulky backpack with... EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD!!!

The Pregnancy Exercise Plan

A couple of years ago I wrote a post about my Mommy Exercise Plan, filled with daily parenting activities that make us moms break out in a sweat and raise our heartbeats. Whether or not they actually burn calories is debatable, but I think they should, anyway. And now that I'm pregnant, I decided to write a list especially for us expecting mommies.

We all know how important exercise is while you're pregnant. Moderate physical activity is "extremely beneficial for most expectant mothers and their babies," touts the pregnancy bible, What to Expect When You're Expecting. Exercise while pregnant can make you look and feel better, stimulate your heart and lungs, process oxygen easier, relieve some aches and pains, and help make relaxing before and during labor a lot easier.

That is, if you have the time and energy.

Well, no worries. I have come up with a feasible plan for pregnant moms to squeeze in that exercise that is so necessary for a fit pregnancy. And, guess what, you're probably doing these things already! Now, some of these may sound easy, but remember -- you are pregnant. You need to take things slowly and to keep it to low impact activities. Don't worry, though: each of these activities will make any pregnant woman's heart pound and gasp for breath.

1. Tie your shoes.
2. Apply lipstick.
3. Walk up and down the aisles at Wal-Mart.
4. Walk up the stairs in your own house.
5. Stir a pot of soup on the stove.
6. Bend down to pick up anything.
7. Get in the car and buckle your seat belt.
8. Get up to answer the phone.
9. Get up to do anything.
10. Open the back door to let the dog out.
11. Sweep the floor. Or, (for more a more advanced workout) vacuum.
12. Make your bed.

And, for the most well-trained, experienced athletes only:

*******Change the sheets on the upper bunk of a set of bunk beds.*********

I myself have performed all of the above activities and can therefore attest that they will get a pregnant woman sweating and her heart pumping! And, if they technically don't "burn calories" or "increase stamina" or any of those other supposed "benefits" of exercise, they sure wipe me out!

Did I leave any out?

You're Killing Me, Braxton Hicks!

I'm in my last month, and those contractions are coming. You know what I mean. The slightly painful but always annoying tightening of the abdomen that sometimes makes it hard to breathe. They are irregular and infrequent, and just plain irritating. What's frustrating about these guys is that these aren't the good, productive kind of contractions. These are the Heidi Montag of contractions: totally fake.

As you may know, these are called Braxton Hicks contractions. It does not mean labor is coming soon. On the contrary, it's just an "aid" to prepare my uterus for birth. I keep telling my uterus that I don't need help in that area. Instead, could my uterus help me pick out a name for the baby, or perhaps pay for a new stroller? That would be much more helpful to prepare me for birth. Needless to say, my uterus has a mind of its own, and the contractions continue.

My sister teases me and says, "Are you having the Toni Braxton contractions?" Ha ha ha. But it got me wondering: why are they called "Braxton Hicks" contractions? As it turns out, they are named after a guy. John Braxton Hicks was the English doctor who first described them as he investigated the later stages of pregnancy in the 1800's.

Grrrrrrr.... Does that sound fair to you? Some guy that's never felt a contraction in his life gets these guys named after him? Kind of annoying, isn't it? Although, an irritating annoyance is probably better named after a man than a woman, right?

So, without a role model or historical figure to sympathize with, I endure these symptoms, reassuring myself that these small irritations are just a sign that my little guy is coming soon.

My Love / Hate Relationship with Maternity Clothes

I can't stand those elastic pants when you're pregnant -- but what else am I going to do? I have no waist anymore. All that is there is a big, round ball of skin, waiting to pop.

And maternity clothes, although relatively comfortable, are a joke. I spend hundreds of dollars on clothes I'll only wear about 6 or 7 months. And most of the time, the pickin's are slim. Why does everything inexpensive look like doctor's scrubs? Or the dreaded mumu? Ick. I don't want to look like the Duggar mom. I want to dress like myself, only pregnant. All I need is some jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts. I mean, I don't need the fancy work clothes, and it's not like I'm going to some hip dinner or a Hollywood awards show.

Plenty of websites are preach the "recycled" maternity wardrobe. "Borrow from your friends!" they say, making it sound so easy. Well, all my friends are so far from done being pregnant, there are no more hand-me-downs. "Borrow Hubby's clothes!" they advise, in a squeaky too-cheerful voice (okay, I am just imagining that in my head). What -- do they want me to look like I'm wearing a circus tent? Puleeze... "Go on eBay or Craig's List!" Okay, I'll admit, you can get a couple things there, but you're a slave to a stranger's taste in clothes, and it's really all about dumb luck. For the life of me, I still can't find a white zip-up hooded sweatshirt in my size -- and I've been looking for MONTHS!

So, at 5 months pregnant, I walked into a Motherhood store, knowing I would have to fork out at least $200 for a couple of shirts and some pairs of pants, but out of options. I had Monkey with me, and I was just starting to show. A salesgirl approached us, in a too-polite voice, "Hi! Can I help you?"

"Just browsing," I said, starting to look at some clothes in my size.

She watched me for a second, and then asked, still smiling fakely, "Did you need help with sizing?"

"No," I told her, trying to stay polite. "This is my third child, so I remember how it works."

She stayed with us still, and continued to watch us. "So, you know that you're supposed to look for clothes in your pre-pregnancy size?"

"Yes," I said, starting to get annoyed. "It's been 5 years, but not much has changed."

"Well," she informed me, full of authority. "Styles have changed. You probably want to update your style. We have some things in your size over here..."

"I'm just interested in the basics," I told her, really annoyed now. "And this is my size." I was beginning to feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Didn't she want me to spend money in her store? We finally walked out, not spending a dime.

I realized I was better off online. I ended up going to Old Navy, Ross, and Kohl's. No salespeople, and decent prices. Sheesh... like shopping for maternity clothes is already soooooo easy, let's throw in a snobby salesgirl (who's probably never been pregnant) to aggravate the situation.

And guess what? I was right about my size!

Walking Around in My Swollen Shoes

Okay, not to advertise for State Farm or anything, but I just love this new dad-to-be. So in honor of Mother's Day this Sunday, I thought I'd post this.

You Have No Idea

"So... how are you feeling?"

This is one of the polite and acceptable questions to ask a pregnant woman. It shows concern for her well-being, as well as an understanding that pregnancy is not an easy task. No mention of weight, baby names, or child-care issues, it is probably the nicest (and safest) question to ask me at this time.

So when a male friend (actually, the same guy that made that comment about my weight a while back) asked me, as we're picking up our boys from school, "So, how are you feeling?" I was actually impressed.

"Tired," I laughed, trying to play it off as funny. I try not to complain too much, even though I'm not 100%. My back is killing me, my side aches, I'm on a nonfat diet, and I can't have caffeine. Of course I don't feel 100%!

So I just replied, "You know... exhausted. But otherwise, I'm feeling good."

"Huh," he laughed. "Yeah, I remember."

I looked at him. "You don't remember," I corrected him. "Your wife remembers. You have no idea how I'm feeling."

Was that rude? But why do some guys act like they understand how it feels to be pregnant? When you're SO tired, you can barely keep your eyes open, after all you've done is sort the laundry. Or when walking up the stairs makes you short of breath. Or when your new bedtime is now 9 o'clock. It is a whole new exhaustion -- one that I had never known until I was pregnant.

Since then I've had two other men say the same thing to me, too. And I always correct them: they really have NO IDEA.

Hubby will come home sometimes, tired from a hard day at work, and sigh heavily, "Man, I'm tired." Then he catches my dark look from across the room. "Well, probably not as tired as you." Exactly.

I am used to being a very active person. I am usually constantly moving, running around with two kids, getting housework done, running errands, taking care of my family or four (plus a dog and a cat). I walk the three blocks to and from my son's school (uphill) every day, as well as go to the gym at least three times a week. At least, I used to. Now I get tired after trying to open a jar of peanut butter. This feeling of exhaustion is not only new, it's hella annoying. It's cramping my style.

And, yes, I know all the research as to why I'm so tired. As as normal pregnant woman in her last trimester, I'm carrying around some extra weight, and I'm not sleeping very well. Plus, I have other kids to take care of, so my time to rest is limited. I get the reasons why... but I don't have to like it. It's still annoying.

So when some guy says, with mock sympathy, that he knows how I feel, I can't help but get defensive. Plus, it's that lack of caffeine talking.

Houston, We Have a Belly

It amazes me how fascinated people are with my expanding belly. And these are the people the already knew I was pregnant. Didn't they know that a pregnant woman is supposed to grow bigger in the midsection? Yet some people still act surprised, even when they know I'm 7 months pregnant, to see that my belly has gotten a little bigger.

I don't get it. We've all heard about the birds and the bees. We were all pulled out of our fifth grade classes to watch the films and discuss the "changing woman." We all took Biology in high school, right? I mean, seriously. Why are they amazed that a pregnant woman has extended her waistline a bit?

I go to my local Starbucks regularly, and I guess the barista finally realized I was telling the truth: I am pregnant. "Are we expecting something?" she asked wickedly. Well, yeah... I was expecting a grande nonfat mocha, but I guess that's too much to ask at this point.

When taking Monkey to swim practice, one of the teachers said, "Ah! You're getting bigger!" Hey, thank you for pointing that out! That explains the pants with the elastic waist I've been wearing for 4 months.

As I was picking up Volcano from school, a mother on the playground exclaimed, "Whoa, belly!" Yes, ladies and gentlemen... babies grow, so pregnant women do as well. What's the big f%&$ing deal?!

I love being pregnant. It is an exciting time, feeling my baby grow, anticipating this new life that will soon join me, and already loving the being inside that I have yet to meet. And I love how gaining weight is actually a good thing, for once in a woman's life. It means my baby is growing healthy and strong and will be coming out to greet the world soon. If I wasn't gaining weight, that would be a sign that there is something wrong with my baby, right?

Why can't these idiots understand that?

You Mean... One's Not Enough?!

Why do people keep asking me if I'm having twins?

I am 27 weeks pregnant, and this question actually seems to be the most annoying (although, there are some great contenders for the title). It's almost like all of this... the morning sickness, the swollen belly, the achy back, the sleepless nights, the forsaking of alcohol and caffeine and sushi... is all for naught. It's just not as exciting if I'm not doing it for twins. I'm supposedly not working as hard or for something as precious as two babies. What? You only have one? Because Angelina and Rebecca and Marcia and every other female celebrity over 35 has had twins. So... why aren't you?

Also, are they implying that I'm big enough to be carrying twins? That makes the question even ruder. Again, do not mention weight when talking to a pregnant woman. Them's fightin' words.

It's not that I wouldn't want to have twins. You see, I am a twin. I have a twin sister. And, apparently, it is genetically probable that I would have twins of my own (one OB/GYN told me I would have a 1 in 5 chance of giving birth to twins myself). So, very often, relatives and close friends who know that I am a twin, keep bugging me, over and over, "Are you sure it's not twins?"

My own admission to being a twin leads to its own set of annoying questions that I have had to endure my entire life. Actually, my mom swears that she got the annoying questions first, when she was pregnant with us. Comments like "Double Trouble" and "Better you than me" when someone would see her out with us at a supermarket or a local park. You know, really stupid, insensitive things like that. But here is just a small sample of the dumb questions my sister and I got growing up:

Are you identical or fraternal? We are fraternal. And yes, I have proof. We participated in a twin study at USC, and they confirmed it. We are, indeed, fraternal.

Do you look alike? We look like sisters, but (as I said), we are not identical. Those who can't tell us apart are jsut not paying attention.

Did you switch classes to trick your teachers growing up? No. What a dumb idea.

Did you fight over boys growing up? No. What an even dumber idea. We had different tastes in guys -- as you would know if you met our husbands.

If I hit you, will your twin feel it? No. But if I hit you, I'd feel a lot better.

Do you and your sister have ESP? No. We're not space aliens. We just shared a womb.

See what I mean?

I would love to have twins. My sister and I had a blast growing up: I had a built-in best friend. We always had each others' back through every year in school, even through college. We were classmates, roommates, sorority sisters, and maids of honor at each others' weddings. (As my Dad liked to say, we began as "wombmates.") So, yeah, I would love that kind of relationship for my future son. And I think if any mom could handle the stupid questions, I could.

But, alas. I have only one. So why do people enjoy making me feel inadequate for that? Making a baby is hard work! And if you don't know what I mean, then shut up -- you've obviously never been through it, so you wouldn't understand.

Pickles and Ice Cream

Okay, I'm now 26 weeks pregnant, and the food cravings have subsided. I was craving Kool-Aid and Mexican food for the longest time (sounds so ghetto, doesn't it?), but those days are long gone.

Seems like I should tell Hubby the good news.

He went grocery shopping the other day, so I made a list for him. We were going to make turkey burgers, so I added pickles to the list. The kids love pickles, and I wanted the burgers to taste more like junk food then they really were.

Hubby returns and lovingly presents me with the largest jar of whole pickles I had ever seen.

"What is this?" I asked. "We don't need this many pickles!"

"Oh," Hubby said, looking at me, confused. "I thought it was some sort of craving you were having."

The ol' pickles and ice cream craving, right? Which I had never had in any of my pregnancies. Wasn't this an I Love Lucy episode, where Lucy sent Ricky out in the middle of the night for some pickles and ice cream? (Actually, I think it was ice cream and sardines. Blech.)

Looks like Hubby isn't the only one who believes this stereotype. You search "pickles and ice cream" on bing and it's all about maternity and pregnancy. In truth, cravings just tell a woman what her body needs. Women who crave pickles are really craving salt, and they may be mineral deficient, specifically sodium. And ice cream is just a sweet treat associated with comfort.

Which might explain why I was craving Mexican food. It reminds me of my mom's home cooking, my grandma's house, and feeling warm and well-fed.

Now, what pregnant woman doesn't want that feeling?

Touch My Belly, Lose a Hand

Being pregnant for the third time has made me ready for the idiots. You know who I mean. The rude, insensitive, stupid people who ask the dumb questions or say the most idiotic things. And then they try to touch me. Since when did this belly become public property?! Would it be acceptable for me to ask about your day while I grabbed your boob? (And if it is, please stay far away from me in the future.) (Perv.)

The most common questions and comments I'm getting are about the shock most people have of me having a third child. It's like it's the most ridiculous idea anyone has ever heard of. I have a boy and a girl already -- why on earth would I want to destroy the cosmic symmetry of the perfect family?! I am insane, right? Who in their right mind would have more than two children to create the nuclear family? (Freak.)

Well, there's also the distance in the kids' ages, so the obvious question I'm getting is "Was it planned?" Volcano will be 7 1/2 when the baby's born and Monkey will be 5 1/2, so everyone is assuming this baby is a "mistake" or a "surprise." Or, the ever-so-cutsie "Oops Baby." Ha ha. When asked, "Was it planned?" I can't help but wonder what kind of pervert wants to imagine the process my husband and I might have gone through to make a baby. C'mon, folks. You know how it works. The birds and the bees and all that. Do you really want to imagine what Hubby and I did to conceive? Or the kind of birth control I used (or in this case, did not use)? Do you really want to know if we sat down and talked about it or if we were caught up in the moment? And who cares if it was planned or not? I'm happy, Hubby's happy, and we are two married adults who are financially and emotionally ready to take on a third child. So what do you care? (Sicko.)

But I have also gotten some really strange questions, which aren't just rude but almost bizarre:

Are you going to nurse, or bottle-feed? Why do you care? You're not eating it.

Are you going to have a vaginal birth or a cesarean? There's just something wrong with using the word "vaginal" in casual conversation on an elementary school playground. Again, what pervert wants this mental picture?

Are you sure you can handle a third? (Or similar comments, like: Now you'll be outnumbered! etc.) Usually this comes from someone who cannot handle their own children. And -- guess what? Whenever Hubby's at work, I'm already outnumbered.

Then come the questions and comments about my weight gain. Since when is this appropriate conversation? I say, if you can talk about my expanding belly, I can talk about yours. If we're talking about our weight, than anything goes -- including me telling you how fat your a$$ looks in those jeans. I was patted on the belly (DON'T TOUCH!!!) by Monkey's preschool teacher at 3 months and told, "Ooh, you're starting to show!" I was told at church by some random lady that it "Looks like your expecting something." A mom at Volcano's school told me, "Wow! I just noticed how much you're growing." And one mother was so please to announce that I had brought my "pooch" with me that day. What exactly is the purpose of these comments? Surely not to make me feel good. (Weirdo.)

Here is the doozy. A friend of mine had just lost about 40 pounds, and I was telling him how great he looked. "Yeah," he said. "I've been running 3 miles a day and watching what I eat." As I had just finished congratulating him on his hard work, he said, "So... I've been getting skinny, but it looks like you've put on some weight."

"Yeah, uh... That's what happens when women get pregnant," I sneered sarcastically.

"Oh," he laughed. "I didn't even know you were pregnant!"

(Degenerate Jacka$$.)

No wonder pregnant women are notoriously grumpy.

No, I Did Not Fall Off the Face of the Earth

I know it's been a long time since I have updated this blog. I have a really good excuse, too. Although I doubt you'll believe it. Especially since I've probably lost all of my readers out there (the few of you that were there in the first place).

*tapping on microphone, only to hear a screech of feedback*

Is anyone still out there?

Well, the truth is, I've been busy. You parents know how it is. Between driving the kids to school, swimming lessons, soccer practices, dance classes, and piano lessons, I am the designated chauffeur. Plus, I had the brilliant idea to coach Volcano's basketball team this season (which turned into two seasons), so that took up some time. As well as being Volcano's room mom and Monkey's preschool parent representative. (What was I thinking?)

We're also getting used to homework time -- yes, HOMEWORK TIME. For a first grader, Volcano seems to get a lot of homework! Not that it's difficult stuff, just that it is time-consuming. Add that to his regular chores and his need to play Legos or video games, I never get to spend time with him. So I make time -- listening to him describe the saga of his latest Star Wars Legos, play a little Mario Kart, or a board game.

All too soon, it's time to start dinner, and I'm up again. This is when Hubby comes home, and usually offers to help with the kids or dinner or other housekeeping duties I've seemed to have neglected. Then it's more family time, catching up on each other's day, and trying to relax while spending time with each other (a momentous feat when it can be accomplished).

By the time the kids are in bed, it's time to relax and catch up on my TV shows. I'll admit it: come 7:30, 8:00... I become a couch potato. I'm in sweats or pajama pants with a bottle of water and a little snack. Don't move me until the DVR has been emptied.

So, like I'm sure all you parents can understand, I had let the blog slide. Then, about 5 months ago, another wrench was thrown into the gears of my life, just to make things a little more interesting.

I got pregnant.

Yep, you heard me. I'm pregnant. Baby number three is on its way, 24 weeks now and counting. So, as if I wasn't busy enough, I am now exhausted and nauseous and fat and... did I mention exhausted? But I have to tell you (and this is quite important): we are SO happy. I am really looking forward to this baby, and I can't wait for the adventures that lie ahead.

And I'm sure there will be many more adventures. So... stay tuned.