El Centro

Sucks. But more about that in a minute.

Went back to work August 12th. Earlier than planned, but I was losing my mind staying at home. So far it's been great. I'm back out on the line launching airplanes & I really do love my damn job. Been able to keep up breastfeeding (until now...grrrr) so the girls have stayed high & tight. Funny as hell to wear scoop neck shirts & watch guys try NOT to look down them. Was walking in from the flight line & passed a jet doing a hot pump (refuel with engines on) and the pilot in the back stared, stared, stared, and without looking away picks up his mask to say something. Pilot in the front looked up, looked around, saw me & stared, stared, stared. I also had to re-attach a leg harness while the pilot was in the cockpit. The leg harness re-attaches on the bottom of the seat and this particular pilot was a very large Marine...which meant that I had to be all up in his lap. I glanced up at one point and saw him blatantly looking down my shirt. It wasn't even creepy though...it was like he was admiring a piece of art. Best was probably when I caught one of my pilots coming down the stairs after a flight saying "My PC had a great rack. There should be a hand signal for 'jump up & down so I can watch your tits bounce'." He had the decency to look embarrassed when he turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs & saw me. I just smiled and said "You could have just asked". I can't really get offended at this stuff. It's not like a shirt like that says "Please don't look at my boobs." Say what you want...my babies need a daddy!!! Halfway kidding.

Now about El Centro. Not only was I "voluntold" that I was going, but they also sent me early det. Me. The only employee who is breastfeeding an infant. Ok. I can cope...not happily...but I can cope. Now here I am...5 days into this det...and they still haven't paid my per diem...money to live down here. Dirty fuckers. El Centro itself isn't so bad. It's not the greatest place, but I've always had a really good time when I'm down here. God the stories Jamee & I  have from here...scandalous things!!! Not to mention my last det with Rhianna. Ahh...VMFA-314...what good guys. Tomorrow night is BMW night...also known as Pigs in Space. They allow civilians onto base to go to the club...and oh the amusement that entails for us. Did get to see Trista on my way down here. I miss that girl like crazy!!! Was so great to see her & her babies! Big thank you to Tasha for taking care of my babies while I'm gone. Was able to Skype with them the other night & I wanted to cry. I've been away from Emma before...but not for this long. It's weird too...whenever I left her, it was for the boat. One night out the night before then work my ass off day after day for a week. Now...if I want to get drunk every night...I can. I don't have to worry about middle of the night feedings...or making breakfast...or bubble guppies. It's almost as if I'm not even a mommy until Oct 1st. Strange feeling. Think I'd still rather be home with them though. Could be worse...military members leave their kids for WAY longer.

Now if my per diem check could just get here & if I could just stop thinking about my babies all the time...I could have some fun.

Jiggly Me

I’m jiggly. I know I look pretty darn good for having a baby less than two weeks ago…but let’s be honest…parts of me jiggle that didn’t jiggle before. And they jiggle even when I’m trying to make them not jiggle. On  the upside, one of those parts is my boobs…that happens to be an awesome jiggle that I hope never ever goes away!!! The jiggle I’m hoping does go away (and SOON) is my stomach. It literally shakes when I laugh. Santa Claus aint got shit on me!!! I do fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes, but considering I was able to wear most of them my entire pregnancy, it’s really not saying much. I want my nice flat, toned, muscular, abs back!!! Took me four months to see the six pack after Bee, but I don’t have that kind of time now!!! Four months from now it will be October…no longer swimsuit season. Ok…there’s a chance it will still be swimsuit season, it is Lemoore after all. The land of cow smells and summer that lasts 6 or 7 months of the year. But that’s not the point!!! It’s summer now & there’s only so long I can get away with laying on my stomach or flat on my back, the only two positions that make my stomach look deceivingly flat. Too bad the doctor couldn’t tuck up a few extra inches when she stitched up my c-section…I would have even paid extra for it!

Guess I’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way…by throwing up after every meal. Just kidding…that’s a waste of money, anorexia is WAY cheaper. Kidding again. For now I’ve cut out all starchy carbs except for breakfast, and even that is healthy whole grain ones. Lunch and dinner are fish or chicken with lots of vegetables. I even picked up some frozen fruit to whip up smoothies in between meals…gotta keep the energy up to chase Bee and the calories to breast feed Slash (which in turn keeps the boobies big and bouncy!).  So far…I had spaghetti and garlic toast Sunday and Monday, then Tuesday I ate really well all day…whole wheat French toast with peanut butter, berry smoothie for a snack, tilapia with vegetables and yogurt for lunch, salmon with broccoli & asparagus for dinner…and cheesecake. A big glorious smooth rich and creamy piece of cheesecake. I had to…I was out to dinner for a friends birthday and it would have been borderline sacrilege not to indulge at least a little bit. I brought a second slice home & ate it for breakfast this morning. It’s ok though. It was a fresh strawberry one which counts as fruit, dairy, and grain (the graham cracker crust). Good thing I didn’t order the chocolate one. Because then I would have just been a fat ass eating cheese cake for breakfast.

Exercise wise I started in on p90x and Billy Blanks Tae Bo Amped. Let me just say…I <3 you Billy Blanks. I’m limited on what exercises I can do. After Bee I started doing full ab work way too soon and pulled an internal stitch. I know it sounds painful, but you really can’t comprehend the full force of that pain unless you’ve been there done that. It was so bad, I went to the nearest hospita…the one with the security guard at the front and the metal detectors…instead of a safer one a little further away…the one without the metal detectors. I’ve never seen so many homeless people in one room at once. That whole experience was enough to convince me to take it easy on my abs for a while. It’s hard to resist the urge, but every time I start thinking maybe I’ll just do a few sit ups, I remember the guy laying on the gurney with a homemade shank sticking out of his side…and the way he smelled. Imagine is somebody ate dead baby, then vomited it up, and the vomit sat in the hot sun all day. That memory is enough to stop me from crunchin it up.

Honestly, I’m scared I won’t get back to where I was. What if this time around, the extra sticks around? I’ve always taken enormous pride in my body and worked hard to maintain it. I’ve always had a bangin body & could wear whatever I wanted or nothing at all and not worry a bit about what people thought when they saw. I’m not ready to give that up!!! I know I need to be patient…but I sure wish I could speed it up a little bit.

Better Late Than Never

It's been a while...to say the least. So many things have happened since I last wrote, some good, some bad, some absolutely amazing.

1. Moved to a new apartment.
Two bedrooms was a tight fit for Jamee, Bee, & I so it was time to move. Got an amazing three bedroom in the newest complex. Best part is...full size washer & dryer!!!

2. Bee and Slash's dad signed away all parental rights. And I agreed to it.
Signed the paperwork just before he left for his new duty station across the country. Makes absolutely no sense to anybody, but I understand why he made the choice and in the long run, it will be he who misses out. I still cry though. I still love him and miss him terribly. And I feel like I failed my children in this aspect. Eventually I'll explain it, but I'm too hormonal to do it without crying right now.

3. I'm addicted to my job.
Or rather I should say, I'm addicted to the office job they had me doing. I delayed my maternity leave to orientate the two people who would be taking over while I was gone, but had to cram in all the information into 3 days. Since being gone, I've received numerous e-mails from various people at work needing my help. Makes me feel needed and appreciated at least. There's a major inspection going on though. And even though I'm not even there and there's nothing I can do about it, I know it's going to be a reflection on my work. Resisting the urge to go by work...just to see...just to make sure...

4. Slash is here.
8:27a.m. June 3rd, my handsome little man made his screaming entrance into this world. He's definitely got my mouth...and his daddy's big wide head. They had to use the vacuum to get it out of my pelvis. 19 3/4" weighing 6lbs 13oz, he's almost as long as Bee was, but a lot skinnier. Actually only fit into preemie sizes for awhile. Trista was in the O.R. with me. Dressed like a lesbian so nobody would wonder why there was no dad there. What can I say? I have some amazing friends!!! He looks like Bee did when she was born, except his hair is lighter. I've got two babies now that look like their daddy and it breaks my heart sometimes to look at them. I wouldn't change a thing about them though.

5. Getting sick as a single mom is hard.
Bee stayed with Tasha while I was in the hospital and for two days after. I missed that little love bug so much...she seemed huge when I finally saw her. She ended up sick that night and mommy got it two days later. I had the common sense to call Tasha for help, knowing I wouldn't be able to keep up with Bee. Tasha's mom came and got her and I crawled into bed with Slash. After long hours of my insides turning themselves inside out, I got up to change Slash and promptly passed out from dehydration. Another phone call to Tasha and she sent her brother in law over to give me a hand. He brought me a few glasses of ice water and all the things to change Slash and left. The next day I was weak and light headed and my incision hurt from my muscles forcing everything out. I haven't been sick like that in years. Made me feel pretty bad not being able to take care of my kids, but thank goodness I had people I could count on. I am blessed.

Lessons from San Diego

Last weekend was the Centennial Of Naval Aviation in San Diego, CA. I decided to pack up the kiddo and the car and make the 6 hour drive down. Having just gotten my license just under a year ago (don't ask!) the longest trip I've made was 3 hours up to Sacramento. Big difference between that & driving the Grapevine. Thank God for beautiful weather & one happy little traveler the drive was quick & uneventful. While down in San Diego I learned some valuable lessons...

I hate one way streets. Especially when there is construction.

I hate the words recalculating route...especially when I'm on the exact street I'm supposed to be on!

4 kids...ok for a few hours...then I feel like I can actually see pieces of my mind scattered around that I've lost.

T's youngest (3 months older than Bee) is a one quick little bugger!!! Darted out of the elevator RIGHT before the doors closed. My heart actually stopped for a moment. Thank goodness we hadn't pushed a floor button so I was able to get the doors open & catch her.

Parking is expensive down there. Unless you happen to be awesome like me & find an unmonitored parking lot. Yes you risk a parking ticket...but it's the principle!!!

The beds at the Sheraton Suites at Symphony Hall are very firm. They're still better than the mattress on the sofa bed. NOT a good night!!!

Two toddlers cannot sleep in the same mini crib. They will beat the crap out of each other & drive the adults nuts with yelling.

E-Bee is a very mobile sleeper. She fell off the bed three times in the night (after the 2 toddlers 1 crib fiasco for 3 hours, I brought her into my bed). I finally put the couch cushion between the bed & the wall after the second tumble. Then I finally just put her on the cushion to sleep. She couldn't have cared less. Wish I could sleep like that.

It is possible to take two & a half hours to make a 20 min drive. No idea how people handle it on a daily basis.

My baby does not get sunburn. During out 2.5 hour trek across the Coronado bridge, my arms (I take that back...my left arm only) turned red as a tomato & while her little shins turned brown. Don't worry, I put sunscreen on her before we actually got into the sun.

Never take directions from aircrewmen. They will send you on the most asinine deserted route past steaming sewers & dirty alleys.

The Manchester Grand Hyatt has the most AMAZING breakfast buffet. More than worth the $20 per person. I think I put on 5lbs and couldn't have cared less!!!

Watching a 40 Hornet flyover gives me lady wood. Just imagining it makes me want to go rub JP-5 all over my body & hump a main mount.

My SO is an ass. An ass to the point that I've got a lot of thinking to do.

On that note (and the tears it brings to my eyes), it's time to get to bed.

40 weeks is a LOOOOONG time!!!

My first pregnancy was golden. It was a complete dream & I loved every minute of it. This time around though, not so much. For those of you who have never had a baby, here’s what you have to look forward to for 40 weeks!!!

First Trimester-

Your boobs hurt. You can no longer stand the smell of steak cooking (or anything else for that matter). Your favorite pair of jeans starts to get a bit snug & you’re wondering if maybe you should be hitting the gym a little harder. Not that you really need to, since everything you put into your mouth is coming right back up. Acne pops up on your face & you can’t seem to watch any type of inspirational show without wanting to bawl. Disney movies will definitely make you want to curl up in a ball and sob…Poor Simba *sniffle*. He just wants *hiccup hiccup* to be brave *sniff sniff* but he’s just a baby lion *waaaaaaah*.

Second Trimester-

Your boobs no longer fit in your bra, but you can’t go buy a new one because in a few months they’re going to be even bigger. There’s also a good chance they may even be leaking a strange yellowish liquid that the doctor insists is totally normal no matter how creepy & gross it looks You can’t stop eating. Big meals seem like distant memories 20 minutes after you finish them. You get mysterious aches & pains in your whole body & start to feel what can only be described as a trapped goldfish in your stomach.  Speaking of that stomach… your burgeoning belly is barely making the transition from really big lunch to cute little baby belly & everybody wants to touch it. This includes your family, friends, co-workers, & strangers in line behind you at Wal-Mart. You’re still emotional & sometimes a little crazy. My sister & I call it “Going Rummy” due to a screaming fit I had over a game of Rummy during my first pregnancy.

Third Trimester-

Guess what is STILL getting bigger??? That’s right…your boobs.  Your belly is beyond cute now & is pretty much just in the way. Simple things like getting up from the couch become an Olympic event that require you to find the perfect amount of momentum to get up, but not fall over once you are up. You can’t sleep no matter what position you get into. You pee every 5 min & yet the doctor keeps telling you to drink more. You can only eat a bird sized portion of food which means you’re constantly eating. Soon as you have food in your stomach though, heartburn strikes.  On the other end…one word…hemorrhoids. That is…if you even can poop.  Nothing fits & you finally give in & put on the big ugly maternity pants that you swore to God you were NEVER going to wear. Once you put them on…you won’t want to take them off. That trapped goldfish has turned into a ninja master who finds new ways to punch & kick you in body parts you didn’t even know you had. You’ll watch in creepy amazement as your baby somersaults across your stomach & makes it look like something out of Alien. Your body is just wore out & tired & you just want it to be over with. People start saying helpful & encouraging phrases such as “Geez, you’re STILL pregnant?!?!” & “Aren’t you ever going to have this baby???”  Oddly enough, as tired, huge, and achy as you are, you develop an irresistible urge to clean your whole home 6, 7, 8, times. This phenomenon, known as nesting, is going to consume every waking moment. You won’t rest until you mop just one more time & get all the folds in the baby’s shirts juuuuust right. This final phase of pregnancy culminates with screaming, sweating, grunting, cursing, blood, fluid, and sometimes poops. Oh…& they won’t let you eat…bastards. Everything after that is its own horror show of grossness with puke, poop, blood, and snot for the next 18 years.

All these things might make you wonder why ANYBODY wants to have babies nowadays. Believe it or not though, all those bitches, moans, gripes, and complaints can’t even begin to compare to the first moment you hold your baby. As you sit there all the bad things suddenly are forgotten and all you can do is marvel at her perfect eyebrows and count his tiny fingers & itty bitty toes. And that’s just in the first 5 minutes. From then on, the rest of your life is going to be filled with these moments of wonder & joy. Makes every bit of those 40 weeks of pain & the stress of the next 18 years more than worth it.

Hide the babies

Usually, I enjoy coming into work. Not so much the having to be here at 6 am part, but the rest of it is pretty good. Granted right now I’m not doing my actual job…turns out jet exhaust & hazardous materials aren’t very good for a fetus. So the boyo is out of me, I’m resigned to desk work…and time sheets. I’m a time sheet master. There are days though, when this place makes me crazy. Or more specifically, there are certain people here that make me want to punch a baby.

>insert punching motion towards my uterus here<

There are a lot of advantages to working as a civilian contractor for the Navy. For one…I’m paid a ridiculous amount of money & have amazing benefits. Also almost all of my co-workers are former military so we all tend to be ok with completely inappropriate jokes. We are, for the most part, a bunch of kids in grown-up bodies doing grown-up jobs. Unfortunately, sometimes certain people still treat this like we are still in the military. Guys who were former chiefs act like they think they’re better than the rest of us & a certain supervisor still acts like he’s a squadron AMO. Add in the fact that we still deal with a Navy maintenance control that changes things 100 times in a minute, and this place can be down-right frustrating sometimes. Navy personnel tend to dislike us because we’re doing the same job as them for a lot more money & a lot fewer hours. Boo frikkety who. Nobody forced you to join & if you really hate it so much, get out…problem solved. Military would be better off without a bunch of pansy ass whiners anyway.

I’m off track though…back to the people I do work with who don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground. I have almost no respect for people who are put in charge of me who never did my job. Whether they’re the ones right above me, or the guy at the tippy top, how can you tell us what is GOING to be done when you don’t even know what NEEDS to be done?!?!?! They ought to act like all my DivO’s did. Hands off backed out unless somebody gets in trouble. I don’t think any of my DivO’s even knew what we really did all day, but at least they didn’t try to tell us to do it differently. For the most part…we take what the higher ups tell us & then proceed to do it the way that works. So long as they don’t realize what’s going on, we’re all safe. Fortunately for me sitting at a desk, the silly rules don’t affect me. I won’t be here forever & I already know when I go back out to that line…I’m going to find even more things that piss me off.

Days Of My Not So Exciting Life

It's been a week since I wrote last. I wish I could say that sooooo much has happened since then, but my life just isn't that exciting. I did start my new classes...business law and math. Best part is there is a conspiracy guy in my law class. You know the kind...thinks cops are out to get everybody, all judges are corrupt, big oil controls everything, and there was another shooter in the JFK shooting. It's so hard to resist poking him & getting him going on a rant. Two classes may not seem like much, but they're from 530-1030 and by the time I pick up E-Bee & get us home & in bed it's 1115. When you get up at 4 am...that's a veeeeeery late night. I thought I was going to die at work on Friday. Nothing like a warm office & a comfortable chair to make you want to close your eyes for just a few moments.

Friday night was Tiggo Bitty's pre-baby dinner. I love getting together with her because she is a blast. We've known each other since we were brand new in the Navy. Some of the stories we have...oh Jesus. One of the best involves the phrase "Your vagina smells nice". Both of us have been through so much & come so far in our lives. From drunken trips to McDonald's to get double cheeseburgers to choosing a restraurant because our kids can color on the tablecloth, we're completely different and yet oddly the same as we used to be. Our daughters are less than a year apart & our second children will be the same. Her newest arrived in the wee hours of the very next morning. Congratulation Mr. & Mrs. S on your new baby girl! I cannot wait to see her.

Saturday I had a baby shower for yet another pregnant friend. Her third...she's a baby making machine!!! Lots of kids there for Bee to play with, but one who is about to turn two was a bit of a spoiled bully. Bee was perfectly happy sitting in one spot holding her little toy & eating apple slices. The other little girl kept taking her toy which E-Bee didn't react to. My little girl is such a push over sometimes. I kept retrieving the toy & becoming very frustrated with the other mother who didn't think it was a big deal since kids need to learn how to share. When the 2 year old took Bee's apple slice though...my sweet baby swung back & whaled the girl in the face and took her apple slice back. Other mom freaked out of course, but all I could do was laugh. My admonishment of "No hitting E-Bee. Hitting is bad!" probably wasn't very effective while laughing. You can take her toys, but you leave my little fatty's food alone!!!

Sunday I went out for date night with daddy. We actually managed to spend 4 straight hours together without arguing. Granted two hours of it was spent in a movie, but I'm counting it!!! Thanks to preggo cravings I decided I absolutely HAD to have steak so we went to Ruth Chris's Steakhouse & I paid. Expensive but totally worth every bite of that filet mignon. That is probably the only restraurant that when the waiter says the not to touch the plate because it's very hot, I believe them. The fact that my steak is still sizzling on the plate is proof enough for me!

Side note...why do we believe it when somebody says there are billions of stars in the sky, but when the waiter says "The plate is extremely hot", or a sign says 'wet paint' we just HAVE to touch it???

Anyway...since I chose dinner, daddy chose the movie. I groaned a little when I saw which one he chose, True Grit, but was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. All three main characters played their parts very well. After movie we went back to his place & just spent some time talking. I resisted the night coming to an end, but I didn't want to stay too late & be too tired to drive. Before everything happened, it wouldn't have been an issue, I would have just stayed the night. But we're not there right now. As much as I agree that we do need to learn to be friends & build a solid foundation for a relationship, it's very hard to not have all the little physical things we used to share. Like sleeping next to each other or holding his hand while walking. First things first though & we'll have a long future ahead of us to get in all the physical contact we want. Seeing all his things packed up brought a big lump to my throat. I've known for a long time that he would be leaving, but actually seeing those boxes made it seem so real. In just a few months, he really will be leaving and E-Bee & I won't be going with him. I know it's not forever and January will be here again faster than I think, but the thought of him across the country without us hurts. Oh well, we're not the first family to be split up by distance & if they can do it surely we can as well. Just hoping we're in a more stable place before he actually leaves. Long distance is hard enough on a solid relationship...never mind how hard it is on ones like ours that are held together with fragile bonds. It's too hard & long to explain now & one day will have it's own post.

Monday I stayed in all day. Mostly on the couch. Bee had a fever that went up & down & came & went. She barely ate which is unusual for her, but she slept her normal amount. She was a little crankier than normal, but considering how happy she usually is, I can deal with the occasional crabby day. Sleep last night wasn't so smooth though. Up every hour from 1230 on. Mommy is tired today...and once again...my office is warm...and my chair is comfy...and I feel like if I could just close my eyes...for...one......sec.........ond..........................

Que sera sera

Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be.

How true are those words in most of our lives. We want to control the things that are happening, but so rarely do things go according to plan. Sometimes plans are changed because of tragedy...an accident takes your legs, outsourcing takes your job, a storm takes your home. Sometimes plans change because of happy events, an unexpected marriage proposal, a job offer, twin boys instead of a single girl.

The last time my life plan went uninterrupted for any length of time was when I joined the Navy. Well, thanks to an arrest, the second time I enlisted. With a fresh record I had to choose a different job. From there, the next three and a half years were golden. I had nobody to be responsible for but me & plans were never a necessity. I did some wild & OUTRAGEOUS things that looking back make me go..."Oh jeebus cripes...what was I thinking?!?!?!" I had a general idea of what I wanted to do with my future, but it was flexible.

Then manslice happened. Then E-Bee. Now Slash.

Instead of being up to my elbows in my officer package, I'm now elbow deep in diapers, stuffed animals, graham crackers, and spit up. Most stressful part of Saturday night used to be trying to figure out what to wear...and making sure nobody took pictures lol. Now I have to arrange a sitter, pack an overnight bag, and make sure I stay sober enough to pick Bee up if necessary. I used to blow money on frivolous shit & now I compare the price for the cheapest paper towels.

Do I miss my old life? Sometimes, honestly, hell yeah! When I hear friends making plans at the last second, when I hear crazy stories that I used to be a part of I absolutely miss it. Life was simple back then. I only had to worry about me & what was going on the next day. I didn't have to save if I didn't want to & cold & flu season wasn't even something I thought about!

Would I go back to it? No, honestly, not even for a minute. I've got a good job that pays well, let's me do the same job I loved in the Navy, only requires 8 hours a day, and I can walk away from at any time if I want to. I might not get to act like a kid anymore, but now I've got my own kid who looks at me like I'm the greatest thing to happen to the world. I've got a little boy on the way & I can't wait to see if he looks as much like daddy as E-Bee does. Speaking of Daddy, he's an amazing man who challenges me & encourages me. Yes we fight, but our relationship is a complicated situation that I guarantee nobody else is in. Despite the sticky mess it is sometimes, there is nobody I'd rather wake up next to.
Do I wish things would go a little more according to plan? Yeah, but who doesn't? When something new comes up that throws everything for a loop, I wish I could look into the future & figure out exactly what the plan is, but as the song says "The future's not ours to see."

Que sera sera.

Whatever will be, will be.

The least reassuring moment in my life.

"Now don't worry too much about this..."

I'm sure the doctor said more after that, but the part before it caused my brain to freeze up and I didn't hear another word. Instead of making me feel better, that phrase made me want to shake her & scream "DON'T WORRY?!?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!" In the span of one 20 minute appointment I found out I had placenta previa, I am a carrier of cystic fibrosis, and there is a borderline abnormality in my baby's brain. If you've never been pregnant you may have no idea what the first two are, but even Snooki could tell you the brain problem is a bad thing.

Placenta previa is when the placenta covers part of, or in my case, all of the cervix. Common in early pregnancy, it usually moves to a higher spot as your uterus grows. Mine most likely will not completely uncover my cervix. My pregnancy is now higher risk, I'll have to take it easy, and my third trimester will probably end up on bed rest. I also will have to deliver by c-section. E-Bee was a c-section and I was leaning towards having another one, and honestly, my only reason for wanting to try VBAC would be to say that I did it. So a c-section is fine by me. My job pays short term disability & I get 12 weeks of medical leave, so missing work to be on bed rest isn't going to hurt. Thanks to an amazing babysitter E-Bee is even taken care of if need be. On the list of things I'm worried about...the previa is low. Sure I'll miss working out like I'm used to, but I'll just have to cut back on the bad foods instead...I take it back...this is going to suck!

Cystic fibrosis is an inherited disease that causes thick sticky mucus to build up in the lungs & digestive track. In order to have the disease both chromosomes must have the abnormal gene on it. If only one chromosome has it then the person is a carrier, like me. Testing is provided for those with a family history of it and offered to those who are planning to conceive or already pregnant. I was tested when I was pregnant with my daughter, but because there are different strains, it is possible the Navy didn't test for the one I carry, but my current doctor did. Dad is going to get tested now to find out if he is a carrier. If he doesn't carry it, then there is no chance of Slash having it. If he is a carrier then they'll test the baby to find out if he has it...chances are 1 in 4 that he'll have it, 1 in 2 that he'll be a carrier, and 1 in 4 that he won't have either and be a-ok. I know I should be optimistic & save the worrying for after the test...but you might as well tell me leprechauns are real.

Now for his brain. The same ultrasound that found my little kiddo has a dingle dangle also found that the separation between the right & left halves of his brain is at the maximum limit...1 cm. Such a tiny distance separates normal and abnormal. The doctor told me since I am 2 weeks behind where they calculated I was...16 weeks & 5 days instead of 18 + 5...there's a good chance that the halves just haven't finished growing yet. I'm scheduled for another ultrasound in 2 weeks. Once again...let's hear about those leprechauns...might as well throw in some fairies & unicorns because I am so far from optimistic, I can barely say the word.

I want to scream. I want to hit things. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I want my doctor to call and tell me it was a mistake and she was looking at the wrong ultrasound. Most of all I want Google to stop working so I don't have to know all the terrible things in my future. The illnesses that come with CF, the developmental delays of a brain problem. I love this baby, not since I first saw the pink plus sign like his sister, but from the moment I heard his strong little heartbeat. Even if he has CF and his brain doesn't develop properly, I cannot abort him because to me he is a baby already, my baby as much as E-Bee was during my first pregnancy and I love him as much so abortion is not an option. But I'm terrified imaging taking care of a handicapped child. My hands are full with full time work & school and chasing after Bee, how am I going to give the extra care and attention a baby with cystic fibrosis will need? How will I afford the additional medical bills? How will I be able to see my baby struggle to breathe every day & have to be the one to pound on his little chest to break up the gunk? Most of all I worry...will I truly love him as much as E-Bee once he is here? Will I resent the extra sacrifices I will have to make the rest of my life? Actually...not my life...people with CF die young. How can I bury my baby boy?

I am absolutely terrified and these weeks until all CF testing is done and until that next ultrasound are going to be incredibly hard. If you find those leprechauns, fairies, unicorns, or even a four leaf clover...pass it along please.

How do you politely tell somebody what you REALLY think they should do with their opinion?

So apparently certain people have a HUGE issue with me not changing my daughter IMMEDIATELY even though I had no wipes, no warm water, and no heat even if I wanted to warm up some cold water. I am officially the worst mother in the world because I let my daughter stay in her poopy diaper for an extra 30 minutes until daddy got home with the wipes. Guess I should have  rinsed her down with cold water even though there was no heat in my apartment. What's risking getting a cold compared to a poopy diaper?!?!?! Guess I could have used the lysol wipes, but I'd rather save them for sanitizing the kitchen counter. Oops...better not joke about that in case somebody flips their shit.

Little PSA...don't use lysol wipes to clean your child's skin...it's bad.

Wonder how they would react to know that if she poops in her sleep...I don't wake her up to change her. *gasp* I can hear CPS pulling up to my door right now.

People also think it's SO terrible that I call my daughter Fatty McNoFriends...actually a friend said she's her friend so I have to change it to Fatty McOneFriend. Just in case that's not bad enough...I also call her...Fat Little Monster, Fat Fat Fattybadatty, Chunky Monkey, Smelly Kid, Gross Little Human Being (I reserve that one for when she's eating boogers or in the case of an earlier post...her poop), My Little Bastard, and her dad has called her Little Shitty pretty much since she was born. Pretty sure every doctor said it's not so much the words your saying as the tone of voice you're saying it in anyway. Just in case she magically understands what I'm saying though...I better start saving up to pay for her therapy...she's gonna need A LOT of it. I should probably make my roommate, friends, and sisters contribute to it too. Everybody thinks her fat nicknames are funny, one friend took the time to explain what a pearl necklace is to her (not the expensive kind), and my roommate is more attached to the word fuck than anybody else I know & laughs at her when I punish her. Combine all that with the fact that her last name is completely made up, that daddy thought the movie Precious was funny (it's about abuse & rape...I really have no explanation), why there are no pictures of her father with her as a baby, the quite possibly emotionally abusive relationship I have with my sisters (we really do love each other), and then there is the inevitable exposure to my mother who happens to be a special kind of special...she is going to make some therapist VEEEEERY wealthy. I am making a minor effort to spare her psyche...I regularly check Google to make sure pictures of mommy before she was mommy are still safely tucked away on unknown cameras. And...she'll be spanked. Ohhhh the horrors!!!

Seriously though people...so long as my daughter is happy, healthy, well fed (obviously), clothed, *usually* clean, and certainly loved, I'm gonna have to say I'm a damn good mother and if you think you have the right to tell me I'm a bad mother (especially if you don't have children of your own), I'll go ahead & tell you to go fuck yourself. Although I will say it nicely and put please on the end because I want my Little Fat Fat Fatty Badatty McNoFriends to have good manners.

My usually cool, but lately just makes me hate my life, job.

I love my job. Sort of. Kind of. Ok, not really. Technically though, I'm not actually DOING my real job lately, so I simply hate the job I'm doing now. Turns out hazardous chemicals like engine oil, jet fuel, hudraulic fluid, jet exhaust & the hundred other things I'm used to dealing with on a day to day basis can cause cancer. Hmm...weird. I wonder if that's why they're labled hazardous? Anyway, while my employers, the US Navy, & OSHA have decided it's cool beans for an average person to be around these things all the time...it's not so ok for pregnant women. So here I sit...at a desk...instead of bouncing around on the flight line humming Highway To The Danger Zone while doing what is quite possibly THE coolest job in the world besides being a paid shopper...which I'm still not sure is a real job.

A desk job does have it's benefits. Like for instance when it's 40 degrees out & raining, I'm warm & dry inside. I'm such a big fan of that perk that when co-workers come into the office, I actually get annoyed when they don't close the door & drip water everywhere. I can also eat food without washing my hands. All I have to worry about is germs, I used to worry about crapping my brains out because I accidentally licked hydraulic fluid off my fingers. No joke...a drop of hydraulic fluid will make you pee out of your butt. I also save money on laundry. No more having to wash my work clothes in their own seperate load with a mysterious mix of coke & Dawn dish soap (it's a super secret mixture known only to those of us in the aviation community proven to remove chain grease, oil, and the smell of jet fuel. It will not however, remove chewing gum from your favorite pair of sweatshirt). Now, I can get in my car without putting a towel on the seat, pick my daughter up & hug her instead of the awkward hug where you keep your body as far away as possible...like how you hug your great aunt who smells like cat pee & denture cream. I can also wear my clothes again...wait for it...without washing them!!! *gasp!!!* Dirty girl!!! Oh stop judging me...you know you wore those jeans 2 days ago!

Now for the inevitable downside...I work in the same office as my direct 2 bosses...the shift lead and the workcenter lead. So when they're having bad days...guess who else is having one??? If I'm 2 or 3 minutes late they notice. If I take an unusually long bathroom break...they notice. I've found that starting with the words "Well I've been REALLY constipated..." usually ends that conversation. They also make me give bad news. I have to call to inform people they will be going on a detachment they didn't volunteer for, switch to a shift they don't like, or have to come in 2 hours early on Sunday. Worst of all...I'm in charge of making sure time sheets are filled out correctly. All I do is make sure each person fills out the proper pay codes and everybody clocks out at the end of the day. I have nothing to do with how much vacation they have, I don't know why they don't have any sick time, I'm not the one choosing who has to go home early, and have absolutely nothing to do with when their paycheck comes in. I just read the sticky notes the data clerk sticks on them about any changes & go around with the red pen to have people fix the mistakes. No matter how many times I tell them that I'm not the one making these decisions, I'm still the one they get mad at.  I don't make the decisions, I just have to carry them out. What happened to don't shoot the messenger???

When it's all said & done though, I have a job. I have a job that pays RIDICULOUSLY well, has full benefits, and only lasts 8 hours a day. If they try to make me stay longer...they have to pay me for time and a half. Plus we're unionized...try & fire me!!! My supervisors aren't unreasonable (most of them aren't anyway). My boss understands I'm a single mother & sometimes mornings just don't go as smoothly as usual & no matter how much I plan, I'm late occasionally. Best of all...when I'm not chained to a desk, my job as an aircraft worker is one that I absolutely love. I loved it in the Navy & I was incredibly blessed to find the same job with the same aircraft (at my first squadron incidentally) here on in the civilian world. I try to remember all of this when I'm frustrated & want to punch everybody here in the taint, but I'm pregnant & therefore allowed to be COMPLETELY unreasonable about whatever I want!!! Now if you'll excuse me...I'm about to have a pissy fit because some douche bag ate my damn crackers!!!

Poop poop everywhere & not a wipe in site.

Aren't men suppose to be faster shoppers than women? My daughter's father went to the store to get something for dinner and I asked him to pick wipes since I was all out. That was about 45 min ago. Twenty minutes ago E-Bee woke up and her butt reeked to high heaven. I could smell it as soon as I walked in the room. That horrific smell that Satan himself would have rejected that promises the most unholy mess to ever be created by a human being. I lifted her up sure I was going to see the tell tale dark spot on her leg or lower back letting me know that this diaper change was going to be more intensive than usual. Luckily for me, the diaper had held. Cringing as I pulled the top away from her back I was relieved not to see the mess creeping it's way up my daughter's freakishly long butt crack. No joke, my daughter doesn't just have a butt crack...she has a back crack. I'm sure as she gets older & builds up her butt it might become more proportionate, but right now her ass is flatter than any stereotypical white girl & her butt crack ends about two inches below the top of the diaper. When she was an infant & spent most of her time on her back, every poop ended up out of her diaper. Fortunately since she started eating solid foods, her poop has in turn become more solid and this one didn't look like it was going to be creeping up anywhere. Throwing up a quick thank you to the gods of poop, I sent my well rested and wiggly little girl out to play.

You're probably asking why I don't change her right away. What kind of mother just leaves her baby in a poopy diaper? Well I'm all out of baby wipes and did I mention the water is turned off? Broken waterline or some other nuisance that means no water for who knows how long. So unless I want to wipe my baby's butt with lysol wipes, or rinse her with cold bottled water from the fridge, we're just going to have to wait until daddy gets back.  I'm really not worried about her well being...she's got some pretty tough skin. Only time she's ever gotten a diaper rash was when I bought Luvs instead of her usual Pampers. I can put her to bed in a Pampers Baby Dry & not need to change her until she gets up in the morning. Her diaper will be filled with pee front to back, but her skin will be perfectly normal. She pees twice in a Luvs diaper & her poor little cheeks are red as a cherry. Never again. I'm actually worried about the poop getting out of the diaper. My roommate is extremely understanding and loving with E-Bee, but she draws the line at poop around the apartment. So if I want to continue to have a place to live...I need that poop to stay in the diaper!!! The absolute worst thing that could happen would be a repeat of the poop-scapade from this summer.

About six months old and having just mastered sitting up, E-Bee was happier when I wasn't right there to play with her & mommy was certainly happier to be able to get chores done while she was awake. Taking advantage of a post snack happy phase, I was washing dishes while E-Bee happily banged her toys against the sliding glass door & yelled incoherent sounds at whatever imaginary friends she was playing with. About halfway through drying the dishes, I realized Bee had been a little too quiet for a little too long. I went into the living room to check on her. There was something all over her face & hands & the glass. "What the heck did you get into?" I asked her, moving closer. About 3 feet away, the smell hit me & I realized the mess my daughter was happily squishing in her hands & rubbing on everything & eating...yes...EATING...was poop. Her diaper was still on & intact, she had just reached her hand into the leg & started scooping it out. Horrified, I snatched her up & ran to the bathroom. Assuming we were playing some new game my gross little baby reached for my face shrieking with joy. I thrust her away from my face, body, and ran the last few feet to the bathroom. Not wanting to burn her with our unusually hot water, I sat her in the middle of the bathroom floor and started adjusting. Unfortunately, the bathroom wasn't very wide & E-Bee happily reached over & finger painted the white walls with the brown green poop still on her hands. Water finally at a safe temperature, I plopped my little poop monster into the tub diaper, onesie, sandals, and all. Bee loves bath time & sat there splashing sending drops of water & waves that were becoming dirtier & grosser by the minute. All I could do was look at her and slowly give into the complete hilarity of the whole situation. I laughed until tears were running down my face and E-Bee looked at me puzzled by what was going on. I drained the water & let her play in the running faucet while I wiped the walls. I washed her down from head to toe three times just to make sure I got all the poop from her hair, ears, nose, and fat rolls. The fat rolls took the longest...she has a lot of them. I dried her, lotioned her, dressed her, and put her down for her perfectly timed afternoon nap. Then it was time to tackle the mess in the living room. I stood there sighing & saying eff my life for a few minutes, got a beer from the fridge, stared at it some more. Then finally got together everything I would need to sanitize my living room. Once everything was clean again and I bathed myself to remove the residue I could feel clinging to my whole body, I went in to look at my baby girl. Sound asleep with her face buried in her bear, hair on the back of her neck wet with sweat because she's always heats up when she sleeps. I forgot how much work she had just created for me. She was absolutely perfect.

I hear her grunting right now in the kitchen...which means she's doubling up the load in her diaper. But I also just saw dad walk by the window. This mess is all his.

I am perfect.

I am perfect. My left eye squints when I smile, my knees are scarred, and I have split ends. I'm impetuous, impatient, and impossibly stubborn sometimes. I am oddly fascinated by popping zits, like watching cartoons, and love gossip like a fat kid loves cake. Actually...I love cake more than a fat kid does and have absolutely no concept of eating in moderation. I have a million and one things "wrong" with me. Things that most people wouldn't list in their about me section on Facebook. But because of all these things...I...am...perfect. Why? Because they are all a part of me and dammit...I am perfect!