18 weeks and 4 years

Yikes! I can't believe it's already been 18 weeks. It's amazing how fast time flies when you're having fun. Literally. Nothing about infertility is fun and then you're pregnant and BAM. FUN.

I am starting to feel the baby more and more every day but I am suspecting either an anterior (front) placenta or just the fact that I move around so much more during this pregnancy that is causing me to feel this baby later than last time.

I did sit at a desk for 8+ hours last time, only moving to go to the bathroom or ride the elevator downstairs to get a salad. This time, I am shooting weddings for 10 hours on the weekends, chasing a 4 year old and running all over a bigger house that I also (sometimes) clean.

This baby has no clue what it's getting into - or maybe it does? It's going to have to be flexible and like to be on the go because that's what we do around here. We bend and move.

Mason turned 4 last week and I think he's still recovering. He also started preschool and spent the night at his grandparent's house so whining and crying has been the drill the past few days. He had his 4 year check up and shots today so he is taking a great nap and then hopefully we will be back on track!

I feel so lucky and blessed right now. I have such an amazing life and I can't help but be thankful.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Remember way back when I would religiously post monthly letters to my son? Nah, me neither.

But hey! He turned TWO. And if you ask him, he will tell you that as well.

The Mom Who Does Not Do Character Themes decided that a Cars theme would be appropriate this year. There's a first for everything, right? Also, The Mom Would Said She Would Never Put Her Child on a Leash? Yeah, she kicked the bucket last week. I bought an Elmo leash in a mad dash to a big box baby store when I thought we would be accompanying my husband to California (child + LAX = I panic). Now that we are *not* going, going, back, back, to Cali, Cali? Now, I just have an Elmo leash. What the hell am I going to do with an Elmo leash?

 

Only child, much?

I am starting to think that Mason really doesn't want a new brother or sister. Example numero uno: He stole my thermometer, the one I use to take my temperature every morning and HID it. Luckily I spotted it under his toy shelf while I was laying on the floor in his toy room today. Good try kid.

Next? He likes to jump on me and bounce on my stomach as if to say, "Take that evil potential-sibling-eggs". He also getting really, really close to 2 which means him screaming, "MINE" a lot and throwing himself to the ground, whining and going on food strikes, much to my displeasure and really making me rethink the whole 2-child scenario.

But of course there are the times where he cuddles, tell me to "try it mommy" and gives me that cute little grin that makes me really want to have another one. I really feel like I missed a lot of beginning stuff with Mason because of all the anxiety and crazy. It might be selfish, but I think I deserve it. I think I deserve another chance.

A little piddle diddy.

We are still in the deep depths of hell potty training. Actually, that's not fair. Mason has been doing wonderful with telling me when he has to go. Just not every time. He only tells me when he feels like it. So behold. The Potty Training watch. He loves it. It plays music. He dances. It helps my fried brain remember to take him to the potty. He knows it means he gets a gummy bear (or three! If he goes).

The other day, I was making lunch and talking on the phone when he told me "Mommy, potty! Let's go! Alright!" and starting running for the bathroom. I can't tell him no, so I followed, leaving lunch on the stove and continuing my conversation. I helped him with his pants and diaper, handed him a book and headed back to the stove. Of course I heard an "UH OH!" so I ran in only to find a huge puddle on the floor and Mason splashing around in it. Then, OMG you guys. He stood up and stomped in it. I hung up the phone. Stood there and squeeled a little bit, told him to sit back down and did what any totally equipped, grade-A mom would do. I yelled for Paul. I could barely speak, let alone tell him that no, his child was NOT bleeding and no, nothing horrible had happened.

It was worse than horrible.

There was pee. On the floor! And he was standing! and playing! Squeeeeeeee.

Paul basically looked at me, raised an eyebrow and told me to just take care of the burning lunch on the stove. Mason was placed in tub. The floor was mopped up. Crises over. It's all good.

Oh, and he PEED! Errrr Yay!? Biggie boy!? Here's a gummy.

A whole month, huh?!

Remember me? Hi! Just sitting here watching Cars for the eighty-millionth time with my sweet almost- 22 month old boy. The sweet part may be a little bit of an exaggeration seeing as he has become quite the little independent toddler which means lots of fit-throwing and screaming matches and NO! Although these days we here a lot more than no. Sentences. Full sentences. Also, singing of songs. Usher and Taio Cruz to be exact. And Elmo too, but mostly Usher. We know colors, letters, every single children's character - even ones that I never taught him, like Shrek. What the hell? We have never watched Shrek and he knows him enough to pick him out on a new grocery tote. We have been swimming a lot in the last couple weeks - enough that I tried those old-school arm floaty things and he LOVES them. He despises life vests (too restricting, imagine that) but love love loves the arm floats. He has gotten really good at going under and swallowing a minimum amount of water. A HUGE improvement to the gallons he was drinking at the beginning of the summer.

Next up? We have some weddings  happening in the next couple weeks and then MOVING DAY! To say that I am excited would be a GIANT understatement. My own space, furniture, schedule. I just cannot wait! Although I do get some beach time right before the big move, sans Mason so that will be nice. You would think I would be pumped about that, and I am, but moving? That, my friends is where it's at! Not much more to update on, I think I have it covered. Instead of reading my boring dialogue, look at some photos!

Lots of excite-ment-ness-ed.

We bought a house. Yep. In my hometown. Which means we are no longer building, well not for another 5 years probably. We just found a deal that we couldn't pass up. The house is gorgeous and I am sooooo excited to move in. In July. Boo. Hello, June? Can you hurry please? Then I can at least say we are moving in "next month". I would feel much better.

Mason has been absolutely hysterical lately with all of putting-together of words. "I wanna watch choo-choo" and "I want more pancakes" are some of his favorites. He also recently starting screaming "FRIES! FRIES!" as soon as we walked into a Rocknes. I mean, how did he even know they had fries there?

Two of my friends are getting married this summer, and I am a bridesmaid for both of them. You know what that means: continuous shit show a lot of parties! One of the weddings is at the beach, so Paul and I are going to go sans Mason for a little one-on-one time and relaxation. This should help pass some time until move-in day and will be really fun as well. I love friend time!

As if I wasn't busy enough, I decided to start a little photography business. It has always been a hobby of mine and since having Mason, I have really become more interested in it. Then people started asking if I could take pictures for them. One thing led to another and T Luc. photography + design was born. If anything, it will give me an outlet to get some of my bottled up creativity out. I had two photos published in a local newpaper this morning and I am pretty proud of that. This is something that makes me very happy and I need that.

So, needless to say, I am going to have a VERY busy summer. I say BRING IT ON!

Oh hey there.

There is so much I want to tell you. Really. Everytime I write something, and go to hit 'publish', I stop. X out the window, move on to reading more Perez. There are some really BIG, exciting (or not) things going on around here, but I just can't tell you yet. I promise I will soon though. This summer should be an adventure-filled one with lots of Mason and poop, and the usual of course.

We are still living with my family - which surprisingly, isn't quite as bad as you would think. I am still attempting to potty-train, but not pushing it quite yet. There is too much going on that I don't think potty training would fair well with. Hopefully I will be back in full force with lots of news and surprises and DETAILS that aren't so creepy and suspicious. Sorry about that. Until then, enjoy the usual photo of the son.

Do you see what I have to deal with?! All the cuteness! My brain can't handle this!

Pee has consumed my life.

That's right, internets. Potty training has commenced. Sadly, we are having to re-train the cats also. First Mason. He really started showing interest in his potty, telling us when he pooped, etc. So imagine my surprise when one day I decided to put him on his potty and HE PEED. I cannot tell you how vigerous my happy dance was that day! THEN, THEN INTERNETS, he did it again, and again! He doesn't quite grasp the whole tell mommy BEFORE you have to go rather than telling me after he has already done it, but I am not pushing it. One day, he told me he had to poop. We put him on the potty and I left Paul to keep an eye on him while I was blow drying my hair. Paul got a phone call and was pacing (per usual) while Mason sat on the potty (he usually doesn't move until we tell him to). At one point I looked up and saw him walking around naked (Mason, not Paul) and I thought he was probably done and continued to dry my hair. Next thing I know, Paul is flailing arms, and yelling NO NO NO!!! and I see a little nugget laying on the floor about 6 inches away from the potty with Mason squatting over it. He had pooped on the floor. A for effort, little man.

The cats. Oh the cats. I woke up one morning to find pee. Everywhere in the house. The cats had started their battle for dominance and we were living on the battle field. So I basically have been cleaning up pee, human and feline, for the last two weeks. I am proud of all of my little potty trainers as they are all making strides. If I ask Mason if he wants to sit on the potty and he says "no" I say okay, and go about my life. If I ask the cats if they are getting along and they say "no" I spray more Feliway. It's going really well!

Thank you mista Easter Bunny

We liked Easter A LOT around here. Mason colored his first eggs, which was more like dropping bombs into what he thought was some new delicous concoction that I was going to start feeding him. Too funny. Who knew vinegar and water was so yummy? Not me.

The Easter bunny was wonderful to Mason. He almost riveled Santa. But alas, Mason has NO CLUE what I am talking about. What bunny? Don't see a bunny? Hrmph. That would be me, mother of the year, who has yet to get a photo of her son screaming smiling on the lap of some smelly dude the Easter bunny. It was in the plans for Saturday, but there was too much going on and HAMS! to pick up. Maybe next year!

Hope you all had a wonderful Easter!

Just a little sleepy.

There isn't too much going on over here. We are dealing with allergies now, because the other sickness has moved on, so you know, there has to be something new. We can't ever just be healthy. Not until at least May...Anyways, here is kind of what has been going on:
Just your typical Luc narcolepsy.


Hope everyone else is doing better than the bubble family!

Dear Mason - 18 Months

18 Months

Dear Mason,

I know. I am behind. You must understand though, that I have been very busy packing up our lives. Our big, crowded, hoarder lives. How does a family of barely three completely fill a 2,000 square foot house? GREAT question. I will refer that one to you, little man. It seems I cannot take a step with hearing Elmo's voice, or one of the Yo Gabba Gabba characters, or the annoying children and adults that record all of the Fisher Price toy sounds. No matter how sneaky I am about putting your toys away, you will stop what you are doing, walk over to the closet and throw them all over the house. The only time you do not is at night, before bed. I tell you it is time to put your toys away, and you oblige me. Thank you for that.

At your 18 month appointment, you weighed 24 pounds, 14 ounces. A true testament to your wonderful eating habits. Just this morning, you knocked down 3 adult sized pancakes, a pear cup and an entire cup of milk. Well done. Now, you will smell of maple syrup until your next bath.

The weather has been really warm, well above 50 degrees for the past two days. We have been taking walks, our last walks, through the neighborhood. You scream, and flap your arms like a bird every time you see another child, or dog. Your true joy brings a smile to my face every time. I know you don't know how to fake happiness and I hope you never have to learn how. That is my mission: Mission Happy. My mission always fails though, when it is time to go inside. You scream bloody murder and somehow dislocate your shoulders so that you slide right out of my arms.

Your doctor and I had a little chat about the tantrums you love to throw lately. I have pretty much tried it all: yelling, ignoring, time outs, putting you in your crib and shutting the door, threatening day care...none of it was really working BUT a combination of time outs/ignoring you. I guess it slipped my mind that you wanted a reaction out of me. You were WINNING. I am smarter now, son. I know this game. Bring it on.

You recently started calling your toy school bus a BUS instead of a CAR. Maybe you really are listening to us when we tell you, "That's a bus/truck/etc." every time you say "CAR!". Maybe someday you will even make your Papa happy and say "Porsche" instead of just car. You will learn. Porsche's are way more than just cars.

We are moving soon. I think you are going to have a blast living with family for the next...forever. No, I promise it won't be forever. Maybe close to it though. And after forever, you will have a new house. And hopefully still-married parents. I'M KIDDING! DON'T CRY! Mommy and Daddy love eachother very much...yes, even when he elbows her in the head in her sleep.

I always say I don't know how you can get any cuter, funnier, or smarter. You keep blowing my mind every day. Slow down a little bit, okay?

So you're going to move. With a child...

We sold our house recently and since we are going to be building a new one, we will have to live with parents in the meantime. I am one of those crazy people that loves to move. I love new experiences, rearranging things, putting everything in it's new place, packing, etc. Of course the actual moving part is never fun, but the end result is like heaven for me. I have moved 13 times (if I counted correctly) in my lifetime so I am pretty much a pro at it by now, but this is the first time that I will actually be moving MY FAMILY with Mason. I am going to move with an 18 month old.

So far, I have learned to plan ahead (which is basically the story of my life, and something I am very good at). When we learned that we would only have a mere 3 weeks to pack up our life, find storage, and be out of our house I didn't panic. No. Instead I kind of squeeled inside. I know, I'm sick. I immediately started making lists. Things to to, people to call, what goes where, WHEN. I also immediately started packing. Since we do still have to endure the inspections, appraisals, etc. I had to walk a fine packing line. I started with the "decor" items - the things that we don't use every day, but rather look at. Pictures, shelves, candles, vases, books, misc. items. Things that could easily be put back if something should happen.

Next week I will packing what I think is the most difficult room: the kitchen. I will pack all of the things I don't use every day: extra place settings, crock pot, blender, toaster, mixer and misc. items. I am going to leave enough plates, glasses and silverware to last us that week and part of the next before we will ultimately result to paper and takeout. I will also have meals planned out so that I can pack up unparishable items from the pantry and figure out which pots and pans to leave until the last cooking moment.

My mom and I were discussing Mason and his adjusting and came to the conclusion that he will be fine. He will have his toys, bed, clothes, everything he is used to (including us). The saddest part is that he won't remember this house. He won't remember the place that he lived the first year and a half of his life. The place we brought him home from the hospital to. At the same time, he probably won't remember the moving, living with family, etc. He will remember the new house of course since we pretty much plan to die there. And hopefully he will realize how hard we have worked to get him there. How much we loved him and wanted to provide the best life possible for him. It's all part of the sacrifices we have to make. I need to keep telling myself that!

I don't want my kid to be a pussaye.

I am trying not to raise a puss of a son. So when I don't immediately run to him and coddle him when he trips over a piece of dust and either says "WHOA!" or starts to whine-ish/cry a little, please don't look at me like I am the poster mother of child abuse and neglect. How's THAT for a run-on sentence?

Toddlers fall. I think that's kind of where the whole "toddle" part of toddler comes from. But I'm not latin. Or an English major, so I'm not positive. Mason falls A LOT. He is my child, I am clumsy. Yeah, a clumsy former-ballerina. Since he falls at least 12 times a day, I try not to exert too much effort to run to him as soon as I hear a thud. I mean, that would constitute me putting down my Bonbons, pausing Oprah and lifting my fat ass up off of the couch, which is tiring and way too much work.

I can tell if a fall is bad. If it is, I will go to him, scoop him up, kiss his booboo and tell him it's okay. I haven't encountered bloody stumps, stitches, or gaping wounds yet (I am sure that is coming...minus the stump part?). I am not completely heartless. He usually only cries for a minute or two, then continues on his quest to end world hunger with a bruise. News flash people: bruises are okay, and if this child is anything like me (YES) he will bruise easily. Again, not abusing him. Don't look at me like that.

Back to my point: I don't want my son to be a pussaye. I don't want him to cry at every little trip. I know this is working because half the time he yells "WHOA!" when he falls, gets up and keeps going. There are those couple times where he may be tired, hungry or just in a bad mood and completely loses it at that tiniest fall. I casually tell him to shake it off and he usually does. This is when the judging begins. Judgy-judgers always give me "those looks" like I am ruining my child. Trust me, he is just fine. I won't let him flip out forever. Usually all it takes is me saying "You're okay!" and then he is. We all are. We are all fine.

Too many margaritas?

**So I started writing this like, a month ago and never finished. Since I am such a super blog writer, I thought I should just go ahead and post it, albeit unfinished.**

Sometimes when Mason does something spectacular (like, every day pshh) I think to myself. "OOOooh write that down! Get a pad and pen and write that down! You will never remember all of these AWESOME things! You have had one too many margaritas and it has hurt your brain and your memory GAH you are getting old and will never rememberrrrrr!"

Do I write anything down? No. Of course not.

Here are some things I want to remember at this point in Mason's life: (17.5 months)
-He still loves cars.
-He climbs on everything. The table, the bed, the couch, the media tower, the stairs.
-He recently started going up and down the stairs by holding the spindles instead on on his hands and knees.
-He can use a fork and spoon to eat.
-His favorite snacks are Goldfish or "shhhs" and fruit.
-He loves to give kisses, say byebye to everyone and play "Nigh-nigh!"
-His favorite shows are Yo Gabba Gabba and Chuggington.
-His favorite meals (although he is on a food strike right now) are usually Pasta Pick-ups and Pizza. Or carbs. Anything with carbs. High five, kid.
-He loves to read/be read to.
-He wears a size 4 diaper, 18 month pants and 12-18 month shirts.
-He says probably more than 40 words at this point and some two-word phrases.
-He loves to play pat-a-cake and will make the rolling, patting and clapping motions.
-Loves snow, bath time, going byebyes, other kids, grocery stores, Target (who doesn't?), malls, any kind of outing, really.
-He has 4 molars thus allowing him to sufficiantly chew food like a big kid.
-He is very imaginitive and would play by himself forever if we would let him. But I just can't resist those blocks.
-He also loves computers and typing...and now, a word from the man himself:

hghjhoioipoiiuuyygfokhmkjj  gtrfrdrffhjjkmnmn yjh nhjgnjml bonkj njkrt

DID YOU CATCH THE "bonk" in there. That's right MIT...call me.

Take your pick.

What's worse? A sick child, or....a sick child husband?

Paul has been sick for a week now and I think it is causing more problems than when Mason gets sick. Let's weigh both sides, shall we?

A sick Mason does not typically sleep through the night. Neither does a sick Paul.
A sick Mason makes for a very tired Tiff. A sick Paul makes for a very tired Tiff as well.
Mason whines all day when he is sick. So does Paul.
I constantly have to chase Mason around with the booger sucker. I actually used the booger sucker on Paul last night.
Being sick makes Mason extremely grumpy. You guessed it.
Paul can help me with a sick Mason. Mason does not help with a sick Paul.
And when they are BOTH sick. Look out.

I guess Paul being sick doesn't completely outweigh Mason being sick, but either way. No fun.
This is where I would usually go into how big of a baby Paul is when he's sick and suckitupdude I was in labor for 30 hours, the last 5 being extremely painful. Shit, I was PREGNANT for nine months. You wanna talk about not being able to sleep? Try sleeping with an extra 25 pounds awkwardly strapped to your stomach. And don't forget to try to roll around with the lump everytime you need to go pee, which is every hour.
But I won't go there. I love my poor, sick husband too much.

27 can blow me.

I went to Boston for my 27th birthday, like I mentioned in my last post, decades ago. Not before what was supposed to be a family birthday dinner turned into a party for my sister only. I'll bill my therapist for that one.Whatever, I guess FORTY is a big deal that should totally be told to THE WHOLE INTERNETand perhaps shouted from rooftops and plastered on billboards? No? Oops. Boston was fun and all and I love the city but I am still debating on whether 27 is awesome or not. For example, my last day in Boston I got a phone call that I had a gyno appointment the next day. Well HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY TO ME YEEEEHAWWWWW!

If that wasn't bad enough, I came home to a penis laceration, diaper rash, 103 degree fever and the saddest (and most cuddly) little boy ever. So not only did I have to visit my lady-business doctor, but we decided to make a day of it and wander on over to Mason's pediatrician as well.

Turns out the laceration was from a number of things including (but not limited to) improper cleaning, and a juice overload (which just sat on his poor wang and BURNED). He cried, I cried. It was bad news. Luckily, the fever seemed to be a complete ca-winkydink and was most likely caused by a virus (still, boo) and was not linked to any sort of infection of the junk. I know this because I had to sit in the doctors office while Mason laid on me with a pee-catching bag on him WAITING for 3-ish hours for pee. None? And you're closing? Sweet, we will meander on home now where you will leave this medical procedure to me. I will conquer. Friday was AWESOME.

We watched UP, which was sad. Almost as sad as my little boy, who usually is running around breaking everything in sight. Instead, on this night, he just layed on me and watched to the movie.

Saturday was better. Sunday was way better. Today is just fine. All parts are still attached and have returned to their normal color. 27 better get it's ass in gear because I am still looking for a cave to hibernate in.

Oh and just because I am not already having the BEST year ever I have decided to do this to myself. Enjoy.

Nonononono

I would post more. If I could.

If I wasn't chasing a small person around all day yelling NO NO nonononononono.

If I had time. If I wasn't stretching myself too thin*.

If I didn't need to clear off my memory card because of my upcoming trip to Boston.**

If I wasn't preparing my child for bike rides in the Spring, which is what, 27 months away?

Or teaching him how to take himself for walks in the snow.

Or cleaning up after things like this:

Or watching him meticulously line up the little car parts that he perfectly matches MATCHES every.time. He iz genius.

Or catching him climbing the coffee table cliff-hanger style. So this is why my table will never be clean.

Or giving him more presents. And watching him do his best Forest Gump impressions.

Or clapping along while he holds ho-downs with Papa to the tune of Old MacDonald.

Or just simply loving the shit out of him at all hours of the day.

*I have lost 6 pounds since 12.28.09 (I like to put it that way because it seems SOOoooo long ago). Check out my journey, and the journey of 3 other bad-ass chicks here.

**I am going to Boston, BOSTON soon. Never been. So excited. Packing snow suit.

Written With Earplugs In

Why oh why won't you nap? Why for you scream in your crib like someone is murdering you? Is this payback? I am told at least once a month about how I NEVER napped and OMG. Halp. If you see the Sandman, Sandwoman, Tranquilizer Dart-seller Man. Send them my way.

**edited for answer to the questions I so desperately needed answered**

EFFING MOLARS, that's why. I was really brave and stuck my fingers in his mouth and there they were. Culprits one, two, THREE?! FOUR?!?! No wonder you can't sleep.

HO HO HO and a bottle of wine.

AKA one down, twelve to go?

You know that crazy family member that everyone has that always shows up to the Christmas party drunk and smelling of peppermint schnapps? I am slowly becoming that person. Although I don't like peppermint, I prefer wine and I have not showed up to a Christmas party drunk yet, but I had good intentions last night. Mason, you know your mom is cool when she stuffs a bottle of wine in your diaper bag, fully intending on numbing herself to the crazy Christmas madness. That poor bottle of wine remained unopened. I set him safely in his new home, our fridge, and let him know that Wednesday would be his day to shine. His day to make my Christmas a little merrier.

Instead, that fat bastard jolly old elf named Santa showed up and gave my kid a present. Mason stared at him longingly until it was his turn to sit on his lap and then this happened:

FAIL. He didn't cry but he squirmed until Santa could not contain him anymore and ran away with the goods. Speaking of the goods.

Ahh, presents. He's a quick learner.

See there? He got a PICKUP TRUCK.

And now...A FIRE ENGINE! He liked his poor cousin's fire engine better (the kid has a thing for red) so he ganked it, luckily without getting into a fight with his generous, trading cousin.

And now we are the proud owners of ANOTHER noise-making fire engine. Merry Christmas.

It feels good if you play with it long enough.

Fun fact: Every time we change Mason, he immediately reaches down and begins playing with himself and laughing. I asked Paul, "Does it really feel THAT good, that fast?" His answer: "If you play with it long enough, yes." He will then, while still squeezing and pulling, point to the blocks on his shelf and say "cocks?". We are still working on the BLLL blllllllllllocks.

Hmph. Well then. I guess I am moving from teaching Mason to say "truck" instead of "car" to saying "penis" or at least "peepee". Which brings me to my next topic: Embracing your genitals (hey, there was no other way to put it). It really irks me when parents get all wierded out by their kid's "play time with themselves". Yes, they should be taught to NOT do it in public, but rather in their room or bathroom but I think it is horrible when a parent starts telling the child they are being "gross" or "wrong" or "disgusting" or just refusing to talk to the kid about their genitals AT ALL. Way to give your kid a complex, genius. Of course I am also of the thought that teaching ONLY abstenence from sex is wrong so there should be no shocker there.

Yes, I am aware that some day Mason will probably read this and give me a big old "MOOOOOMMMMM!!!!" and not speak to me for a while because I told the internets about him playing with himself, but that's what you get when you get stuck with me for a mom. That and Teddy Grahams and Yo Gabba Gabba  math equasions all day.