I'm over it.

Having this extra baby weight, that is.

Baby P is now almost 7 weeks old. I know that's not much in the whole scheme of things and I may have a faulty memory from the first time around, but I seem to think that losing the baby weight was easier last time.

Truthfully, I haven't started dieting yet (after this weekend, it's on!). But I don't think I had at this point after T either. I figure I was probably getting more exercise and walking more with T at this point as well - which is a bummer because I'd gladly do it, but if I don't get outside before 10am, it's a hundred zillion degrees. I haven't had any baby blues this time around - which is fabulous and I'm certainly not complaining -- but the only thing that gets me down is looking in the mirror and seeing the extra 20 pounds I'd like to lose in the next 5 days. Oh, and trying on my pre-prego shorts and wondering if they will EVER fit again and not feeling hopeful about it.*

I'm terrified that I'm going to go somewhere without P and someone is going to ask that dreaded question: "When are you due?" And then I might just have to stomp on their foot and run off screaming. And then go home and burn my scale.

So yes, I'm bummed that I'm still fat. And still looking a little pregnant. And I'm totally and completely over it.

*Confessional: I've been trying on my pre-prego shorts since like day 7 after giving birth, when I had such a great parenting day that I thought "surely, this day is going so well that I should just try on my shorts and see if -- for giggles -- they fit. They didn't.

The week in pictures

So, school was closed this week. The hubs was gone this week for the first business trip since baby P entered the scene.  This means it's been the first week that the little man has been around the baby 24/7, sans typical routine, since she was born.  He doesn't seem to be a fan of newborn cries. This also means there was a whole lot of toddler angst.

My week can be summed up by this picture, which doesn't even do it justice.

Scene: One of many epic tantrums. This one may or may not be because I carried a gift in from the garage and tried to close the door to the house.

Single parenting, I am reminded, is hard. Single parenting two kids, is crazy hard. Single parenting two kids who are in a screaming frame of mind --- cue the wine.

Ghetto

T has never been a kid that's into music much. Probably in part because his mommy can't carry a tune and makes up her own words to songs as she sees fit, but aside from some "toddler tunes" (as we call them in our house) - he doesn't seem to have particular favorites to bop around to.

Until lately.

The New Girl season finale a few months back reminded the hubs how much he likes a certain Elvis song so he put some of Elvis's stuff on the system in his car. From this mix, T decided he loved one in particular more than he has liked any other song he's ever heard. He asks for it all the time. Asks daddy to sing it. Looks for any excuse to ride in daddy's truck so daddy will play it. And talks about it constantly. Elvis's "In the ghetto."

So the hubs had to give T's teacher a heads up about it this week at school. If T Is talking nonstop about how he loves "in the ghetto" and how he's "in the ghetto" in daddy's truck, he's referring to an Elvis song and NOT a location. Awkward.

The adjustment

I knew we would have it. That adjustment period that everyone talks about when you bring a new baby into a family where another kid who already rules the roost.  So now, since I'm a mom of two for a little over two weeks now -- I figured I'm enough of an expert to share what I've learned so far.

1. They might be small, but toddlers are very capable of hurting mommy's feelings. Like when they say, "Go away, mommy. Don't come back." Even if they are only ordering you to leave the kitchen and go into the living room. Those words. Yea, still a dagger to the heart.

2. Being the one who everyone (aka, both kids) needs or wants to do everything for them can be a little much sometimes. Until the moment that the older one decides he actually prefers you NOT to do everything for him. He'd rather daddy do it. Even if it just lasts for a day. It still stings, even though it is totally irrational.

3. We thought tantrums were bad before. Until said toddler felt he had to be heard over a baby crying. Then we found out they can actually be louder than anything we've ever experienced. Earplugs anyone?

4. We still don't know what we're doing with potty training.  Is T ready or not ready? Is it too much to take on with a new baby in the house? To train or not to train. No clue. Wish we could hire someone who could take on this task for us though.

5. Swimming lessons are just not worth the aggravation when dealing with a new baby in the house. T obviously has no fear of the water if he has no problem "swimming." We'll blame it on the baby and try again next year.

Swimming lessons turned into a big failure, but at least he's got no fear of the water

6. Recognizing how difficult it must be for a toddler's world to be rocked with a new little one coming in to stay for good and taking some of their hard-earned attention - the sweetness that is (once in awhile) exhibited towards us or towards his new baby sister is even more sweet.  I think our family is going to be A-ok as a foursome....though admittedly, it might take awhile.

I'll take the hugs whenever he's giving them!

Food Aversions?

Everyone always asks if you have any food aversions while you're pregnant. And I've always said no.

However, I think I discovered I had one. Honestly, I thought I had just worn myself out on plain M&Ms. Anyone who has known me for the past 3 plus decades would know how much I generally love them. And how I can't usually go more than a day or two without a bag handful. However, I've shied away from them recently. I'd gladly eat chocolate, don't get me wrong, but I was choosing to pass over plain M&Ms entirely rather than eat them. They weren't doing it for me. In fact, I thought I had just eaten them to the point that I was simply over them. So I thought.

Turns out I must've had a food aversion to plain M&Ms while I was pregnant. Because in the two weeks since the sweet P has arrived, I've eaten more than enough plain M&Ms to make up for a 10 month hiatus. It appears my willpower once again doesn't have a chance against those suckers.

This isn't going to be good for losing my baby weight. (Neither are the icing filled cookies, but that's another food category entirely.)

She's Here!

Our little girl made a slightly early debut into the world this past weekend!

She was born on Sunday with 10 perfect fingers and 10 perfect toes (albeit on huge feet - her shoe selection might lack a little in a few years...). She is the exact spitting image of T as a newborn, which means she looks just like daddy. A little disconcerting to see her in pink because I almost have to remind myself that it's our little gal and not T.

This is about all I can write at the moment because she's decided not to sleep this morning, and has finally decided to snore, only if I hold her. It's quite cute, though makes getting anything, even typing with just my left-hand, kind of impossible.

More to come another, more productive time!

Our baby girl.

T meeting sweet P

I mean really, could YOU tell the two apart? Eerie!

This one is T, by the way.

Pretty

I’ve thought it was super cute over the past few months when my child has used the word pretty in a sentence. He likes Shakira. (He sees her on The Voice during bath time). He thinks she’s pretty. He thinks every pretty girl on TV is called Shakira, and says “Shakira pretty.” And we always agree. After all, Shakira IS pretty. He’s said on occasion “Mommy pretty.”  He’s even said it in the past combined with a hug. And I have totally eaten it up. The hubs totally thinks I’ve taught him that one. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve encouraged it (mommy likes compliments, after all!), but T learned it all on his own. I SWEAR. I was actually hoping that the hubs taught him that one in a sweet romantic moment, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the case – based on his insistence that I could be the only one to teach the kiddo that phrase. So, we’ll give our old daycare provider credit for that surefire and slightly egotistical path to my heart.

Then there was last week. We were on vacay last week in Port Aransas* and T saw a pretty newscaster on TV at lunch. And says that she’s pretty. So, I do what all very-pregnant-ladies-in-need-of-a-surefire-ego-boost would do. I ask him if I’m pretty. And I get a big, fat NO. And an adamant head shake. And then he even goes as far as to clarify, in case I was wondering if he didn’t understand the question. “No, mommy not pretty.” I get it, kid, I get it. 

Seriously.

*A family babymoon? Is there such a thing? Blog on that to come.