Ice Schmice

When we woke up yesterday morning we were greeted by ice, ice and rain.

Sweet (note sarcasm).

I try my best to get out of the house as soon as I can almost every day. I absolutely hate staying in, it makes the day go by soooo slow. This weather did not please me. It meant that Dave and I had to figure out how we would spend our day indoors...*shit*...and try our best to not play with Tommy Trains all freaking day.

**Don't get me wrong, I love that Tommy can take my sons attention away from the fact that I'm cooking dinner, lunch, or whatever, but these days after 30 minutes of Tommy and Friends going around the track for their 60th time is just not as exciting as it used to be.**

So we decided to bake cookies for Nana's birthday. Got everything ready. Shit. No brown sugar. Totally not scraping the inch of ice off our car.

Walking to the store.

"I'll go" I say. I'm already going stir crazy.

You think a pregnant woman would be a little more cautious when walking on the icy death trap formerly known as a sidewalk. But no...it was a lovely icy, sliding, paradise... that is until is started to pour rain on me...then it sucked ass...luckily it was on my way home.

Finally we baked, and it was fun....but it didn't last nearly long enough...it was 10am....and we were already eating cookies.

OH CRAP.....he's back to the Tommy Trains....Dave, what should we do? These freaking trains are getting on my nerves.....WAIT....IDEA....my parents had brought the paper over the other day....there is a kids contest for The Big Comfy Couch that Miles could do. Miles enters his first contest. A colouring contest....he's a shoe in!

OOOOOOOOOO Big Surprise! He wants to play with his trains again. We give in, and play trains.

Lunch finally arrives, promptly followed by nap (2.5 hours, I have no idea why he was so tired, we were inside all freaking morning). When Miles woke up the streets had been salted, and believe me, you couldn't get us our of the house fast enough. I can't wait for summer!

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!

LOVE YOUR FRIEND MILES !!!!

Some strange woman's Belly

I usually blog while Miles naps....well, that and clean the house, do laundry, cook dinner or any number of other things I can find to do in a two and a half hour time frame. For the past three months while Miles napped...I napped (ahh sweet sweet sleep). There was no blogging, a dirty house, piles of laundry and dinner was always made last minute. It's time to spill the beans.

I'm pregnant!

I know some of you already know, but some of my faithful readers who I've never even met, aside from reading their blog everyday (I sometimes wonder if I know more about them than some of my own friends) don't know yet. Needless to say, these days I'm feeling less tired and have been inspired to blog a bit more than I was in the first trimester.

My last pregnancy with Miles was a breeze, aside from the fact that I gained a freakish 60 pounds! I was running and swimming practically every day. I really did eat quite healthy...I mean, don't get me wrong, I did indulge every now and again, but I did that before I was pregnant too. Miles was 10 pounds and c-section. To make it a long story short, because of some hormone issue relating to pregnancy and birth, I was never really able to get my old body back. Some doctors have told me that perhaps getting pregnant again would "correct" this whole hormone situation. My fingers are crossed. It's been very difficult for me to live in this body.

Ok...my point. I'm starting off this pregnancy 30 pounds heavier than I was for my last pregnancy. I am terrified of what is going to happen to my body this time around. I already look like I looked at 19 weeks with Miles. I've been keeping a schedule of what I've been eating to make sure I don't lie to myself, and even though I understand that often women show sooner for their second pregnancies I am afraid of the next few months.

To make it even more difficult, two of my close friends who are skinny beyond belief are both pregnant. Nathalie is a bit further along, so I don't look as pregnant as her (thank god), but I am a month behind my friend Michelle and I'm definitely way bigger than her. To top it off, the most frustrating thing is that likely after they both have their babies they will look like they were never pregnant at all...like two days after they deliver and I'll be strugling with my wieght for another year. UNFAIR!

So in search of some hope I found the pregnant belly gallery. It is here that I found the strange woman's belly. I don't know who she is (and I certainly hope she doesn't mind I've posted her on my blog...oh well, that's what you get for posting your picture on the net). I know this is her second pregnancy and that she's not having twins. I know she is as far along in her pregnancy as I am. I now introduce to you SOME STRANGE WOMAN'S BELLY!!!

Look at that belly! Thank you strange woman.

Classic

I grew up knowing that happiness was a warm gun. I knew who Casey Jones was, and that for some strange reason there was always Smoke on the Water. I learned to know when to hold em and know when to fold them, and I knew how to Turn the Page.

Classic Rock.


It's what my parents listened to....it's what I listened to until I discovered that there was more to life (though some may beg to differ) than The Beatles, Grand Funk Railroad, and the Grateful Dead.

It was around grade six when I started experimenting with bands like Ministry, Skinny Puppy, The Smiths, The Dead Kennedy's and the like. I wore a lot of black. My parents hated it.

It was around grade nine that I realized that even though I could appreciate Ministry every now and again, I just didn't want to listen to them as much as I wanted to say goodbye to the yellow brick road, and discuss the merits of the Stranglehold. It wasn't the drugs either, it was the music people. That's not all I listened too, there was The Tragically Hip, Smashing Pumpkins, Ween...and well, the Beastie Boys were always a constant. But I always fell back on the Classics.

As I got older I began to appreciate hip hop. The Roots, Tribe, De La Soul...yadda yadda yadda. And you know other stuff like Radiohead, Beck...you get the picture. But when I'm in my car, WCSX (classic rock station) is usually my first choice. If I have to throw in a cd, it's Dylan or the Dead.


My point is that currently every night in our house we dance. If we aren't at home, we dance at our friends house.

Sometimes it's to the White Stripes, sometimes it's to James Brown or Stevie Wonder, sometimes it's King Reign.....sometimes it's Bon Jovi (whoo hoo). It just makes me wonder, with Johnny Cash, Dr. Dre, and the Grateful Dead to dance to every night. What music will Miles take to? What music will he fall back on when all the "trendy" bands come and go? Perhaps I don't care as long as he keeps dancing....perhaps I secretly hope he will hold on tightly to the classics....but aren't they all?

Still Scratching

I've been bad. I know. I'll be back. The rattan is still scratching my ass.

I Know It's Early Thursday....Pretending It's Wordless Wednesday

**Miles in Australia at 6 months...yes thats a real spider....no it's not alive...yes we saw them ten times bigger than that!**

My Heart Melted Today

Today I looked at Miles and said, "Love you Miles"

Today Miles looked at me and said, "Love you Ma Ma"

..........oh and did I mention I need a new camera Santa?

The Rattan is Scratching My Ass

Our house is a MESS...white dust everywhere...DRYWALLING DUST PEOPLE (minds out of the gutters, we are parents here). The renovations continue in the living room, and I predict they will continue for possibly another two weeks. Cramming the family into rest of the house has proved interesting, but not too terribly uncomfortable. Although I am typing on the floor right now, and frankly the rattan mat I'm sitting on is scratching my ass...and no I'm not naked blogging.

So this is why I haven't posted lately, this on the ground blogging is not exactly desirable or comfortable. However, I find when I don't blog, I often have much to say, and it becomes too late to say it. I missed wordless Wednesday....my camera is broken (Christmas...hmm..Santa?) I feel like I've missed out on two months of my sons life without a camera...I NEED A CAMERA PEOPLE! I need to capture cuteness on a daily basis, and no I'm not talking about me...

Wordless Wednesday Photo

I missed Thursday Thirteen......hmmm...

Thirteen Ideas To Try and Keep Miles' Mittens On

1. Staple the mittens onto wrists....likely child abuse...SCRATCH IDEA.

2. Staple the mittens onto coat after putting them on...not child abuse..although application may result in accidental child stapling...hard to explain...likely child abuse...SCRATCH IDEA.

3. Insert glue into the tips of the mittens, even if he tries to remove mittens, they will still stick to his fingers...likely child abuse...SCRATCH IDEA.

4. Elastic the ends of the mittens to wrist...could possibly result in loss of circulation..likely child abuse...SCRATCH IDEA.

5. Duct tape mittens to wrist...the one and only fix all...tape removal likely child abuse...SCRATCH IDEA.

6. Tell him that every time he wears his mittens like a good little boy a Thomas the Train will appear...too expensive...SCRATCH IDEA.

7. Sew Mittens to coat sleeve, he has no option but to wear the mittens...sounds like a good idea...too time consuming...SCRATCH IDEA.

8. Hold mittens on myself...Yeah screw that...SCRATCH IDEA.

9. Hire someone to hold mittens on...this is getting harder.....SCRATCH IDEA.

10. Make it undesirable to not wear mittens...shit..likely child abuse again...SCRATCH IDEA.

11. Paper Clips?...Useless...SCRATCH IDEA.

12. I could lie and tell him if he took the gloves off then something bad would happen...damn that's just mean...SCRATCH IDEA.

13. Perhaps I should bite the bullet and accept that once the snow arrives, or that if it gets too cold, he may just want to wear them...or I accept the inevitable frost bite...shit, it that child abuse too?

Suggestions Anyone.....what do you do?

Okay, that sums up my week...I'll do my best to continue this on floor blogging.

ASIDES***Miss you Penny, hope you are having a great time in India***

Thirteen Things Going On Outside

1. SNOW

2. SNOW

3. SNOW

4. SNOW

5. SNOW

6. SNOW

7. SNOW

8. SNOW

9. SNOW

10. SNOW

11. SNOW

12. SNOW

13. SNOW

I need a drink.

16 Month Old Child + 5 Bites of Candy =

A Seriously Spun Cherry Tomato

**the following photos were taken pre chocolate**

It was like a dog at a dinner party. You know, dog barfs at the end of the night, but everyone claims they didn't give him anything to eat. I gave Miles one bite of chocolate, I then asked if anyone else had given Miles chocolate, everyone says "NO", so I gave him two more bites. Well...by 7pm Miles was SPUN. He was running around the house, laughing hysterically, talking super fast, playing with every toy, running laps around the coffee table, chasing the dog...I mean it was insanity. He did everything but barf.

Everyone was laughing their asses off...it was funny, but I have to admit, I was afraid. Afraid of what the night was going to hold for me. Well, surprisingly he slept the ENTIRE night. Probably tired the shit out of himself.

All candy was hidden today...that kids just like his mom..loves Peanut Butter Cups.

Thirteen Reasons Why I Am Who I Am

**NOTE: Please keep in mind, not all photos of friends could be included as most are incriminating in some way shape or form . Also, "Reasons" are in no particular order as I have issues downloading pictures on to Blogger. Issues I'd rather NOT discuss.**

**Disclaimer: I am who I am. Sorry if you are a part of it and don't want to be. I have a lovely mind, but a filthy mouth. I am very kind and caring, but can be far too honest for my own good (see profile). Yes there are more than thirteen reasons why I am who I am, but that would just take too long, and besides, it's 13 thursday, not 300001 thursday.**

Reason #1: My Parents

Reason #2: Mother Nature


Reason #3: Care Bare Rollerskates


Reason #4: Dave


Reason #5: Words

Reason #6: Miles


Reason #7: My Friends (highschool photo)
Reason #8: My Zodiac Sign
Reason #9 Field, B.C.

Reason #10 Chocolate (mmmm)

Reason #11: Bob Dylan

Reason #12: Pink Floyd

Reason #13: Basically Everything on THIS Website

Wordless Wednesday

Mr. Potato Head strikes again

Thirteen Reasons Why Being a Mom Is Like a Smoker who Rides a Bike

Thursday thirteen's? What the F? Well ask any serious blogger what that means and they know. It's Thursday, and you make a list of thirteen things (DUH). Whatever topic you want really. Thirteen. No more. No less. And well, being the oh so serious blogger that I am, I've decided to give it a whirl. Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

**IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER....and definitely not always referring to myself**

1. Power Lungs:
Riding a bike and smoking requires amazing lung capacity. I've witnessed this act of aerobic lunacy with my own eyes. It pales in comparison to the lungs an enervated mother needs to sing "Old McDonald Had a Farm" for the five millionth time that day.

2. Boldness:
Riding a bike and smoking requires the rider to look beyond the stupefied eyes that stare at the sheer idiocy of events being performed on two wheels. This pales in comparison to the mother who dances foolishly around grocery carts to avoid "the moment of no turning back" much to the annoyance of hurried shoppers. The mother who sings made up songs on street corners as highschool children point and laugh. The mother who wrestles their children publicly just to put on a shoe.

3. Multi-tasking:
Riding a bike and smoking requires...Well...Basically doing two things at once. Although I have observed these said smoking wonders on wheels riding with both hands on the handle, and smoke dangling out of mouth....Simply breathtaking. It still pales in comparison to the mother who can clean and entire room with her toes clenching open and closed because company is coming over that night, and baby has chosen that particular day as the day they need to be held....By mom only...The entire day.

4. Appearance:
Foolishly, the individual riding a bike and smoking is the only person who thinks they look cool. More importantly, this person cares not if anyone thinks they look cool. A sort of "fuck society" if you will. This pales in comparison to the lactating mother walking boldly down the street with two perfectly circular wet marks on her shirt where her breasts are. Pales in comparison to the mother who has been reduced to chapstick being the most make-up she will ever put on for years. Pales in comparison to the mother who's only shopping excitement is getting a new pair of yoga pants to replace the ones she wore when she was 8 months pregnant. Not to mention the fact that their sleeve has become a snot rag, for their child and all of their child's friends.....difference...These mothers don't think they look cool...Looking cool takes too long....Similarity, a sort of "fuck society" if you will attitude about their appearance. I'm a stay at home mom, and the only person I need to impress today is this child who could give two craps about how I look right now....That is until the husband comes home.

5. Selfishness:
Riding a bike and smoking is pure selfishness. Check the outside of any bar...Smokers group....They huddle....They stink up the air in one location. The riding smoker distributes the cigarette smoke evenly throughout the entire neighbourhood, although never actually done myself, I don't know how much ground you can cover in the duration of an entire smoke. I've walked behind a biking smoker though...nuf said. Pales in comparison to the mother who's child has made a "stinky" and won't/can't change it because....well...They just don't feel like it.

6. Need For Speed:
Riding a bike and smoking must be a thrill ride. Traveling at their speed of choice, all the while inhaling that sweet nicotine. Pales in comparison to the ex-smoker mom avec jogging stroller who runs the dog, baby and herself all the while singing Dora the Explorer for 6 kilometers. Stopping only to pick up dog shit. Sweet.

7. Solidarity:
The smoking cyclist rides alone....though they may beg to differ that this is all part of the "cool factor". The stay at home mom, even if she has other mommy friends, spends a lot of time talking to a child, and when the child is asleep...Alone. Though time spent not smoking, mother indulges in laundry, dishes, sweeping...Oh and blogging....way cooler than smoking and riding a bike...I guess.

8. Branding:
The bicycling smoker finds it imperative to have not only the trashiest (which is cool...Just look at K-Fed) bike to ride, clothes to wear and the strongest cigarettes to smoke for full effect. Cigarettes must be displayed on sleeve. Once again pales in comparison the fashionable mother who walks her child in only the coolest brand name stroller, all name brand clothing, and keeps those silly tags on her diaper bag....She pales in comparison to the mother who has a steal of a stroller found on e-bay, wearing all clothing found in Value Village (score), goes to the library to get books, and carries the Value Village bag around to pick up dog shit with.

9. Fearlessness:
The helmetless, smoking cyclist has no fear as he cruises cool handedly through stop signs. No comparison to the mother who boldly walks from street corner to street corner expecting everyone to stop for her and her infant passenger.

10. Honesty:
The smoking cyclist is clearly not afraid to let everyone know, "Hey, I ride a bike and I smoke....eff you". Can't hold a candle to, "Hey, my son is teething right now. I had friends over on the weekend and stayed up far too late for the 5:45 wake up call. I'll look like this if I goddamn want to...eff you".

11. Nature Lover:
The smoking cyclist is making a statement while tooting around on their bicycle. I love the outdoors...I'd rather ride a bike and smoke than sit on my couch and watch Who Wants to be a Millionaire and smoke. Similar to mom who'd rather spend all her time away from home than look at the mess she will have to attend to later. Library = mess somewhere else. Play Group = Mess somewhere else. Stroller walk = No mess....Ahhh.

12. Heart Attack Waiting to Happen
The smoking cyclist...well...It goes without saying..They are quite literally a heart attack waiting to happen. While a new mom practically has a heart attack over everything that "happens"....to baby.

13. Talent:
Riding a bike and smoking is an exercise of extremes. Quite frankly, so is being a mom.

My Darling Little Sponge

I can't see a difference. Can you see a difference?

We've finally reached the stage where our little fun machine is repeating EVERYTHING we say. His version of our words are granted a bit different, but none the less repeated. Example: Clearing out the dishwasher...wine glass breaks...mom says "shit".... Miles says "hit"...Mom says "ah man" (as is ah man this kid is repeating EVERYTHING I say...Miles says "ahh man" (like Cheech or Chong might say after having smoke a big fatty). Lesson: Swear words are out.

Is there fun in this? Of course...As long as you watch what you say. Picking the most absurd words for Miles to repeat is always fun. Even the easiest of words is fun to hear him repeat. Apple = Apple. Apple Juice = Appy Jew hmm. Chew = Chew. However Chewy (as in our dog) = Cookie.

As of today though, our favorite words are "NO" and "YEAH". Example: Everything does not have to be a yes or no question. Do you want to take a nap? "NO". Well of course you fool, why would he want to take a nap? Next try...."In 5 minutes we are going to have a nap" "NO". Lesson: Shit, it doesn't work either way.

What it comes down to is that I still don't know what the hell I'm doing. I'm basically winging it, and I think I'm doing a pretty good job. So what if the kid said shit....he brushes his damn teeth!The only problem is that I don't know what this kid knows anymore. Words fly out of his mouth that I don't even think I taught him. LESSON: This kid is sort of like Santa Clause. .......He knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.


I can't see a difference. Can you see the difference?

Yes We Are Alive!

Before you all start to lecture me about my blogger neglect please take into consideration that we've just picked up our entire lives and plopped them into a new city. We just bought a house (which I love, especially the yard), and even though we've been in it a few weeks, I'm still among boxes, wires, and torn up carpet. Thanks to Mike, we do finally have a new front porch though!

It's not as easy as one might think to blog, unpack, cook, have time for yourself, and look for a job with a walking, talking, 15 month old fun machine always at your side either. Once I find my camera cable...wherever the hell that is...I'll post some new pics of the house and my darling little monster.

It's hard to think about everything I want to blog about when it's been nearly two months since I've made a post. So I will end this post here and come back with a doozie tomorrow. I know, I know....give it a rest Lala.

To all my faithful readers, thanks for waiting for me. I promise a good laugh tomorrow. Right now I have to deal with the bomb that has gone off in my living room.

Where Have I Been?

Okay, things have been a bit crazy on this end, and well, come the end of the night, I'm too tired to blog.

So, let's do this point form.

• Miles is now walking like a mad man. "Gotta Go" is his favorite saying, so needles to say I"m always going, and I have no choice, I gotta.
• I got stung on my foot by a beet at the park. I stepped on it. It hurt like hell. Foot swelled, ankle swelled. Couldn't walk for a day.
• Dave got a new job.
• A new job in another city.
• We are moving.
• We can finally buy a house.
• We are packing.
• We are looking for a new house to buy.
• We are BUSY.

So if anyone has been wondering where I, or my head has been...That's where. Well that and it's summer, and I'm enjoying it.

So on the aside...I have a cold sore. Shit. I've never had a cold sore in my entire life....PISSED. I always looked at people with cold sores and thought, "Poor guy/girl, that must suck". Well now I can tell you first hand how much it sucks. First off I can't kiss Miles or Dave. You don't realize how much you kiss your family until you can't kiss them anymore. Secondly, the stares...ooooo the stares. I don't have a fucking disease...Just herpes. SHIT I HAVE HERPES. God couldn't they have come up with something nicer sounding? I'm going to now refer to this nastiness on my lip as a sun blister. Brought on by stress, menstruation, and uh...Poor diet? People will fall for that. Yeah. Yeah. This sun blister better get the hell off my lip soon, I got a wedding to go to in a few weeks. I hear these things can last a month. Again with the PISSED, and the shit, shit, shit, I hate sun blisters.

I'll try my best to continue blogging though moving insanity. I really will. After all, with our history of moving and all that it has to offer, this one should generate a few good laughs...and this time we have a kid! I'll also try my best to write a few more chapters to my previous postings.

Friendship After Baby: Chapter One. What To Expect....The Reality

Grade 12.

What a wonderful year.

Another year of under age drinking...And other sorts of experimentation. A year of amazing camping trips, sleepovers, naked runs, and bush parties. The year most of my closest friends were made.

It was not like grade 9 where you searched through endless faces for people you could call friends. Spending time with people you would rather not because for some reason or another, they were cool.

By grade 12 I had my group of friends established, both male and female. I consider myself lucky for having met such amazing individuals at such a young age. Friends I still have today. Of course I've meet new friends along they way, amazing friends, but my friends from highschool are still some of my most cherished friends. Some people don't even remember the friends they had in highschool, lost contact, moved apart, or so and so cheated on me with so and so, so I don't like so and so anymore.

The girls and The guys. 10 girls. 7 guys. That is how we refer to one another. "The girls are going out tonight", "Some of the guys will be there". Our group of friends, as beautiful as we are, are not without our faults. Some of us, for one reason or another don't talk as much, but through one another we still always know how we are each doing. Despite our issues, we always ask how each other is doing.

We aren't some freaky clique of people. We are quite kind to most people, and always welcome new friends, we always did. We are all unique, we always were. I'm not going to say we were popular, because we went to a school where not too much of that existed. "

I am one of "the girls". Dave is one of "the guys" (by they way, the first picture is of Dave in a sexy red suit for prom) . I'm lucky that way. I have the best of both worlds, though I'm sure some of "the girls" would beg to differ.

2005 Enters Beautiful Baby Miles

I'm 31 now. I'm married. I have a baby. I have many new and wonderful friends, along with the ones I had in highschool. Quite a few of my friends are married, but only two have children. Both of which live far away.

What I Imagined After Baby

I would deliver a wonderful child, all our friends would be around us, supporting us, laughing with us and creating memories with us. Friends would visit often, friends understand.

What Really Happened

I delivered a wonderful, precious, beautiful baby boy. The friends that were able to be there, were there (see first post), supporting us, laughing with us, and creating memories with us. Many friends didn't visit often. Many friends didn't understand. I felt like a stranger among my friends.

When Miles first arrived there was a slew of visitors to greet precious Miles into this world. Friends to tell our birth story to. Then, days and nights became one. Sleeping when I had the chance to, nursing, cuddling, loving Miles and Dave. Days passed. Friends called less, and calling friends became difficult, laborious sometimes. I was never sure how much they wanted to hear about Miles (because surely I could talk for hours) so I often asked of what filled their days and I listened. And when is a good time to call?

I had imagined I would see them more. I often felt left out. Saturday night would arrive and I wouldn't get invited out. Not that I was going to go. I was happy to stay with my new family. Though an invitation would have been nice from time to time. I know most of my friends didn't ask because they thought it would be rude to, because I wouldn't be able to go anyways. This is was a difficult time for me. I've always been quite social. Close with my friends. Talking every day to many of them. About people we saw on the street or the bus, or an act of kindness, or a thing of beauty. Now my life was Miles. Miles and Dave. Walks in the park. Nursing. Bad daytime television. Nursing. Sleeping. Not sleeping. My life was baby. I felt alone. No friends near me to relate to these changes. No one to understand the isolation I felt when Dave was at work.

One Year Later

My friendships are a lot easier now that Miles is older. I can go out. I'm no longer a slave to the boob. Many of my friendships on a social level have been rekindled, not that they were ever lost. Contact was simply less frequent with many of them. Many of these friendships however, exist outside of me being a parent (Don't get me wrong, they get their earfull about Miles).

I miss that many of them don't get to see Miles on a regular basis as I had imagined they would. I envisioned Miles would know all my friends names before he could walk. That he would smile from ear to ear when they arrived (ok he smiles regardless). That they would know first hand all of his quirks and his character. I do have friends who go the extra distance to spend time with the little guy, and who want to hear what new things he's doing when they aren't around. Friends Miles knows and loves. Friends who know exactly how I feel about my friendships and how sad I have been over them. So I wasn't totally alone.

So when did I get to be the centre of the universe anyways?

I realize that my friends have lives too. That Miles goes to bed before many of them get home from work and have dinner. That weekends are often full of activities, especially during the summer. I've spent a lot of time thinking about my friendships and how selfish we all are when it comes to friendship. I am as much to blame, for when a close friend of mine had a baby I didn't reach out as much as I should have. She lives far away, but now that I know what I know. I realize I could have been a better friend.

I know many of my friends plan on having children. I hope that none of them experience these feelings I've had about friendships since I've had Miles. I know how lonely it can be, so I intend to reach out.

No one told me that having a baby would put such a strain on my friendships. No one told me it was going to be so hard to be one of the first among friends to have a baby. No one told me.

What To Expect....The Reality. The Unwritten Book For Expecting Parents.

Sometimes I disappear. But I'm not gone. Just thinking. Playing. Laughing. Reading. Running. It's summer and I'm enjoying it.

I read a lot of pre pregnancy books while I was pregnant. I even read them before I was pregnant. Through the writings of midwives, doctors, and mothers, I came to expect pain and joy. There were books that told me how much weight I was supposed to gain (liars), books that told me how our baby was growing, when to expect kicks, when to expect aches, and how difficult it might be to breastfeed. This list of knowledge (unwanted or not) is endless. I don't claim to be an expert, and don't understand anyone who does, except the biology of it all of course.

There are things however that I have experienced that were never written about. Important things. Things that I would have appreciated having some understanding before they happened. Perhaps it's just a part of parenthood, and this knowledge comes with the package. Some may argue that I am compulsive when it comes to being prepared (though now I have a baby, they can no longer argue that point). There are however a few things I would have appreciated time to understand.

During my pregnancy I can't begin to tell you the number of times I heard, "Having a baby will change everything". Well, no shit. I thought things would be exactly the same as they were. Needless to say, OF COURSE there is truth in this. Go Figure.

So I guess it is the everything that I would l would like to explore. What is everything that changes, and what do I wish I knew before I had a baby that would have better prepared me?

• How much more I would fall in love with Dave.
• How much unwanted advice I was going to get and how to deal with it.
• How having a baby would affect my friendships.
• How I see my parents in a new light.
• What about me?
• Time.
• Appreciation.
• How upsetting weaning would be.
• ..........Well, basically EVERYTHING I guess. HA!

Over the next few days, I am going to take some of the everything that I have found have had the most impact on me write about them. Why? I don't know. I feel like it.

A New Tradition?

Some people need coffee in the morning to wake up and some people need to take a shower. Others can get along fine without either. My dad needs the newspaper. Let's discuss to what extent.

The year...hmm...Somewhere between 1983 - 1985. I can't exactly remember. I was young, that's all I remember.

It was morning. It was dark. The sky was ominously green. Pea soup green. Like a tornado is going to strike down anytime soon green. The thunder was loud. Rock concert loud. Standing beside a speaker at a rock concert loud. The lightening was fierce. Step off your porch and I'll strike your ass down fierce. For all storm lovers (my family included) it was beautiful. Watch from the porch beautiful, not dance in the streets barefoot because it's just so beautiful beautiful (that's only reserved for showers, not tornadoes). We used to get our chairs out on the porch, blankets if necessary, and watch the storm.

The car, a Voltswagon Thing. It looked just like the cars below, only it was yellow. Sunshine yellow. Please note: Canvas roof (totally practical). Plastic windows (you had to unzip them to open them). The passenger window on our was ripped, and held together with duct tape (along with many other things in that car).

Instead of asking if I wanted to join the family on the porch and watch a seriously wicked storm, my dad looked at me and said, "Heather, we're going to get the paper". I don't think I had a choice in the matter. I know it seemed ridiculous at the time, but I also know I wasn't scared.

I remember my mom running out to the car trying to stop us. I can't remember what she said, but it was likely somewhere along the lines of, "Are you fucking crazy Tony? Do you really need a paper that bad. Can't you just wait?". I imagine my dad's response was something along the lines of, "Don't worry, we'll be quick. I'll keep the car running, and Heather can run in and get it" (UM...WHAT?)

Driving away I could see my mother. Well, a sort of warped version of her, because when you look through plastic windows covered with rain, things are just not as clear as they should be (a little safety feature courtesy of VW). That and the duct tape was blocking my view. She was clearly pissed (though I believe she was secretly happy that she would soon have the crossword in her hands).

Crazy drive to the store. Windy, low visibility, flooding in the streets, branches falling, thunder that shook your body to the core, rain pouring hard, rain pouring through the holes in the plastic windows, me holding the door closed because sometimes it just didn't want to shut.

Shortly after (in my dads defense, the store wasn't that far), we arrived at Beckers (I still miss Beckers chocolate milk...Straight from the jug). I ran out, now it was hailing...Large balls of hail...Dent the car large (lucky me). I have to admit, it was exciting.

I grabbed the paper and proceeded to the counter. The store clerk looked at me like, you are too young to be reading the paper, and clearly if you do read the paper, what kind of parents let you out in this weather. It was that moment that I saw the clerk look out the store window, see my father (more likely the bright yellow car), waved (yeah like he can see you) and looked at me and said, "Is that your dad? Nice guy. Crazy, but nice." Crazy but nice. "Yup, that's my dad".

Another crazy drive home.

We arrive back home. I can't remember how pissed my mother was, if she was at all. I'm sure she got over it as soon as she got her crossword, and discussed the foolishness of our actions with the family on the porch (watching the storm of course)....Wait...I'm not taking the blame for that...We were discussing the foolishness of dads actions.

Since Miles was born, we have watched many storms go by on our porch (I'm so lucky to have a husband that loves storms as much as I do). Now that Miles is older, he sees and points out the lightening, and he gets so excited, just like his parents. I hope to watch many storms, wicked storms, fierce storms, thunder storms, lightening storms with my family. And if Miles is lucky..I just may take him to the store in the middle of a tornado to buy a news paper. Perhaps I'll make it a tradition.

IT.

Yes folks, there is another world out there. A world of "mommy bloggers" (rumor has it there are "daddy bloggers" too). Yes, it is scary, but as a mommy...And well, a "mommy blogger", I must admit, there are a few mommy bloggers I love and visit often (they make me laugh). There are even a few mommy bloggers that I don't love (they make me angry), but visit anyways...WHY? Cause it makes me feel better.

In this world of mommy madness a game of tag is being played. The Misadventures of (Mommy) Laural (she's one of the good ones...Really she is) has been so kind enough to tag me **hint of sarcasm (I dislike tag, never liked it on the playground...Always running around aimlessly, chasing the almighty untaggable.**. Kind enough to make me realize that five is a very difficult number (though it does make for an easy post). I know it's not your fault Laural, you are merely playing the game....As will I. I think it's bad luck or something to not continue the game, like something really bad happens, like you lose a toe or something.

NOTE: "My" has been changed to "My/Our"...If you think I'm taking all the blame you've got another thing coming.

5 Things in My/Our Refrigerator:

**See Previous Post**

5 Things in My/Our Closet:

1. Three Bags of nice clothing that hopefully someday soon will fit again (No comments from the peanut gallery please...I am well aware that Miles is one now) .
2. Underwear (Type: Granny...ahh the comfort....The sexy ones are in the bag of clothing that no longer fit) .
3. Dave's underwear (even the ones with holes...Just incase he runs out of the other 30 good pairs he has) .
4. Socks (Same deal as number 3. You can't reach into the sock pile without finding at least three pairs you refuse to wear because they have holes....You can't argue with him on this one....Really....What if we run out of good socks?....I'd rather go barefoot) .
5. A pillow that Miles peed on.

5 Things in My Handbag:

**I don't have a handbag. I have an immensely large and extremely ugly pink wallet with hearts. It cost me ten dollars. I shove all my crap in the stroller...Which is basically my wallet. I'm a no make up, no fuss kinda gal.

5 Things in My/Our Car:

1. Lots of music .
2. Pop cans that Dave has shoved under the seat because he thinks I won't know they are there. 3. A Baby on Board sign. Speaking of which, Baby on Board signs work to your advantage, but also against....Yes other drivers back off (a bit) when you are driving, BUT when you are driving on your own, without baby, speeding and listening to music full blast (because you can't when baby is in the car....ahh Such freedom), people look at you like you are an awful person for driving like a crazy person because they think you have a baby in the car.
4. A plaid sheet (seriously but ugly) that we put up in the back seat because we think it prevents dog hair from getting everywhere....Yeah right.
5. SHIT LOADS OF DOG HAIR .

Now the way the game goes, is that I tag someone (it should be five people, but I don't know five bloggers personally). So, sorry to those of you I've tagged before (yes I have played before...again with the fear of losing toes), but Emily, Tawny, Anna Lee and hrm....Well I think that's it. You are IT.

Gratuitous Baby Photo

*Read sign*