If someone asked me what my current favorite hobby is, I would say food. 100% food. The carb-ier the food, the better. And I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m in love with food right now. It happens every time I’m pregnant. Pretty much as soon as I stop feeling sick, I immediately switch to “shovel in all the things” mode. The thing is, it’s much easier to get away with that in the 2nd trimester. During that time, you’re still fairly active, you’re not uncomfortable, you still have plenty of room for a baby and a food baby to exist simultaneously. It’s a magical time. But once the 3rd trimester hits, game over. Oh, you still want to eat everything, and you do eat everything, but then it has nowhere to go. (By the way, when I say “you”, I mean “me”. I do this.) So now, after I enjoy an over-serving of Indian food, I’m graced with waves of nausea, heartburn, and wet burps. You heard me. Wet. Burps.
This digression really began after I did my glucose test. About a month and a half ago, I got to drink the sugary drink that everyone says is disgusting but I think is actually pretty tasty. They made me wait an hour. Then they drew my blood to test for diabetes. I didn’t think too much of it, until I had a voicemail from my doctor’s office saying to call them. I knew this HAD to mean bad news, because if it was something routine or benign, they just would’ve told me in the message. I knew it HAD to mean I had diabetes. This was the pregnancy it was going to happen. I just knew it. So, I was pleasantly surprised to call back and discover that, no, I did not have diabetes. In fact, my blood sugar was a little low, so I needed to make sure to eat snacks, especially protein-based snacks, between meals. OMG. Best. News. EVER!!!! …except, I interpreted “protein-based snacks” as cookies, and candy, and brownies, and all of the sweet treats!! Oh, and cheese. Cheese in all its forms. Sure, you might say I was indulging, but really, I was following my doctor’s orders. I was doing it for my baby!!! Then, at my next doctor’s appointment 4 weeks later, I found out I had gained 6 pounds…in 4 weeks… Sooooo….that was exciting news. In the scheme of things, it’s fine. I’m probably going to gain what I gained in my other pregnancies. And it’s fine. Sure, I’m going to be 40 more pounds of person during the hottest time of the year. But IT’S FINE!!! 
Speaking of heat, can it stop being so fucking hot already?? Honestly. For only being June, I’ve already had record amounts of under-boob sweat. So much sweat. The surprising thing is, it hasn’t been as awful as I’ve anticipated. Granted, I still have 2 months to go, and it should only get hotter from now until then, but I haven’t been as miserable as I thought I’d be. Maybe I’ve mentally prepared myself for the worst, so I’m able to manage it. Also, I sweat like a monster in the summertime, pregnant or not. So at least being pregnant I have an excuse and can eke out some sympathy from strangers. “See that waddling woman with a glistening sweat mustache? Ugh, what a…oh wait…is she pregnant? Poor thing…”
The waddling seems to have set in a little earlier this pregnancy. I’m starting to enter the “movements are uncomfortable” part of this journey, so somehow that results in me swaying aggressively side-to-side with each step I take. I’ve been trying to stay fairly active. I started out so strong with that half marathon, and then I guess I figured that could suffice as the total amount of exercise this pregnancy. Running doesn’t work so well anymore. I feel too nervous about tripping and falling over, and once I stop running, it feels a little like my pelvis is cracking in half. So, that can’t be good. The frustrating thing is, even walking is starting to give me that sensation. WALKING! The easiest form of exercise. You know videos or images you’ve seen in school or books that show how the earth’s continents really started out as 1 big land mass and then slowly separated into different chunks? That’s what I imagine is happening with my pelvis. Each step I take is creating a larger space between continents. Science.
I have been able to keep up with my Body Pump classes. And the answer to your question is yes, a 31-week pregnant person doing body pump looks as ridiculous as you would imagine it does. 
Last week, I wore a maternity workout tank top to the gym. It’s a super comfortable shirt, but leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. I mean, you know exactly where my belly button is and how fucking weird its shape and size is. Anyways, at one point during the class, the instructor asked everyone to look in a side mirror to check their form. As I turned to view my side profile, I think I let out a semi-horrified gasp. I don’t know what I was expecting, but man, there is definitely a growing baby in that fat ass belly. As I’ve gotten bigger, I’ve had to modify for different parts of the class. For example, instead of loading up weight to use during squats, I basically just use my ever-increasing body weight. I also have to keep the bench at an incline and do a series of weird maneuvers to get up and down during the bench press part. For awhile, I tried to keep up with the abs workout, just using a slightly inclined bench. But eventually, it became difficult to know exactly where my abs are. Do they exist anymore? Have they begun to separate like my pelvic continents? Who knows. All I know is during 1 class I tried to attempt a hover, and when I looked down my stomach was no longer round but more pyramid shaped, and I thought, “ummm, fuck this”. Later, abs.
I was really worried this summer would drag on forever since I’m no longer working and the boys don’t have school. So far, it’s been ok. We’ve been fairly busy and (as always) I have lots of help from family and friends. The boys really like going to the pool, and besides the time it takes to lather up my whale body with sunscreen, the pool has been fantastic for me as well. It’s nice for the boys, they get to have some active outside time without melting, and I get some relief from the heat and fucking humidity. 
I try not to feel too self-conscious in my maternity suit. I have 2 different “tankini” tops that work well, but unavoidably make my boobs look like sad sausages. Don’t ask me why that’s the image that comes to mind, but for some reason it is. It’s like they look skinny, length-wise, like link sausages, but they’re falling down. Like someone is dropping 2 link sausages. But instead of hitting the ground, they’ve come to rest on top of my fat belly. That’s what it looks like. I also had to buy some new bottoms, because somehow the ones I had became crusty? Nothing says, “you’re disgusting” like a crusty old pair of swimsuit bottoms. So I bought some generic black ones at Target. Of course, I needed a size up from what I usually wear, but overall they have worked well. They aren’t bikini style, though, they’re more like spandex shorts. In fact, I probably could’ve just used some spandex shorts I have from my volleyball days. They are just as long as those. And before you go judging my stylistic choices for a suit, know that: 1. I don’t give a shit, and 2. I’m much happier knowing that whatever situation is happening down in that region (because who the fuck knows what’s happening down there anymore), it’s going to be covered. I’m sure I already get plenty of looks/genuine confusion regarding the sausage link boobs and the offensive paleness, I don’t need any other questioning looks targeting my lady bit situation. Uh-UH!
As the boys continue to get older, the general trend that has surfaced is: some shit gets easier and some shit gets shittier. For example, Adam is old enough to understand more things. He still loses his patience and wants what he wants when he wants it, but he can be talked into or out of things and bribed fairly easily. He will even offer up his help every now and then. However, this means he’s also smart enough to manipulate. Manipulate me and, of course, manipulate Nick. Lying has become a fun, new behavior. And he is a shitty ass liar. To be fair, he gets himself into lose-lose situations quite frequently. The most common scenario is: Nick has a toy that Adam wants. Adam takes the toy from him by force (grabbing, pushing, etc.). Nick cries. I ask what happens and Adam says, “nuffing”. Me: “Did you push Nick?” Him: …”no…” Me: “If you’re lying you’re going to be in more trouble. Did you push Nick?” Him: “….” Me: “Yes or no?” Him: “I don’t know!” Me: “Yes or no?!” Him: “Yes, but I wanted…bla bla bla” Me: “Timeout.” So really, attempting to lie is probably his best bet at avoiding punishment, since he’s likely going to get punished anyways. It’s a tricky situation. And Nick is definitely not always the innocent one…
Nick is a stubborn little shit. And as my patience continues to dwindle with every pound I gain, I find myself getting in more and more battles with him. The most recent one was at breakfast. I asked what the boys wanted to eat. Which, by the way, is a terrible fucking idea. Why do I ask them what they want? They are CHILDREN! Why I don’t just decide what I’m going to make and then force them to eat it, I don’t know. Maybe I innately enjoy fighting with 2-yr-olds. Either way, I ask if he wants some scrambled eggs and he says yes. So I slave away making gourmet scrambled eggs for him (aka, cracking the egg into a coffee mug, scrambling with a fork, and heating it up in the microwave). Surprise, surprise, once the eggs are ready to eat, Nick doesn’t want them. Fine. The rule we’ve established for both boys is, they need to eat what’s on their plate. If they don’t, that’s fine, they can be “done”, but when they ask for a snack, they have to finish their plate before having anything else. So, as expected, Nick asks for something else a few minutes later, and I tell him he needs to finish his eggs first. To which he replies, “No!” (while giving me the demon look). I remain calm and explain his options again. Followed by more “no”s and demon looks. Eventually, he tries to pull a sneaky one by taking his plate toward the trash. I catch him and put the plate back on the table and tell him he needs to finish the eggs. More pouting and demon looks. I leave the kitchen for a minute, only to return to Nick pushing his plate of eggs into the sink. As I’m reprimanding him and picking eggs out of soapy water to put back on the plate (it’s fucking fine, a little dish soap never hurt anyone), I see he has one piece of egg that he’s slowly pushing into a space he’s discovered under the counter, between the sink and the cabinet. I don’t know why there’s a space there, but I do know that if (more) food gets in there, it’s going to do nothing but add to the likelihood of (more) unwanted bugs and smells in the kitchen. So I lose my shit and yell and threaten and then feel bad and stupid for even engaging in an argument…with my fucking 2-yr-old. I honestly can’t remember how it was resolved. If I had to guess, I’d say I probably left the plate on the table for Nick to finish and at some point my terrible dog got on the table and ate the eggs and I was too tired to make new ones for him to eat so I just gave him whatever snack he wanted in the first place. A+ parenting, ya’ll.
I chalk up some of my emotional outbursts to pregnancy hormones, but other times, I just become a lazy parent. Being consistent can be really difficult, so I shouldn’t be surprised if my kids’ behaviors don’t change when I don’t follow through on consequences. Summertime is also tough because it seems like there is more going on, later in the evening, so schedules get thrown off and then kids get all dysregulated. A perfect example is Nick’s recent nap regression. We had a couple weekends in a row of late nights with friends, plus random viruses going around, plus me going out of town…resulting in Nick refusing to nap for a week straight. Now, Adam gave up naps not long after he turned 3 (this is early for most kids – lucky me), so it’s not like I’ve had afternoons with both boys asleep for awhile. However, Adam has gotten pretty good at “quiet resting”, so I’m able to get some things done or just sit and relax for a bit in the afternoons. With Nick, however, missing a nap means that by 5pm, he loses his shit. The process of trying to get him back on track with napping was so incredibly frustrating. Listening to him yell in his bed for over an hour straight, knowing that he’s exhausted, knowing that if he doesn’t sleep that the rest of the day will be miserable, also knowing that if I wait too long and he falls asleep too late, I risk a successful bedtime…my sanity was like a pot of water slowly boiling over. I had to do a lot of deep breaths and self-talk. Plus, I googled. I tried to limit myself to sites and suggestions that seemed legit. The internet is full of people who think they are experts and before you know it, you’ve read 1 too many comments on “Baby Center” and you’ve been shamed into thinking you’re doing all of the wrong things. We have a book that we’ve used with both boys when establishing sleep schedules early on, so I figured that was a somewhat trustworthy source. What I discovered is that when kids are overtired, their bodies will actively fight sleep. So instead of napping, which seems like the intuitive thing for a tired body to do, kids will fight it and then fatigue early in the evening. The solution: push up bedtime. Somehow, getting more sleep at night is supposed to make kids rested enough to sleep well during the day. It doesn’t make the most sense to my brain, but I’m on board with my kids sleeping all of the time. I don’t know if there’s a time I love my kids more than when they are sleeping. It’s just wonderful. So, after several failed attempts at naps and pushing bedtime earlier…Nick finally seems to be back on track. Which is actually how I’m able to spend an afternoon writing this blog post, instead of deep breathing and stress eating as he screams in his crib. 
As I approach the end of this pregnancy, I can’t decide if I want time to speed up or slow down. Part of me sees that side profile in the mirror at the gym and thinks, “2 more months?!? How?!? How much bigger can my stomach get?!” But another part of me, the part that looked through newborn clothes the other day thinks, “I’m not ready to do this again.” Having been pregnant before is such a blessing and a curse when looking ahead to the end result. There is nothing more amazing than giving birth. Hands down, the most wonderful, amazing thing I could ever experience. However, that process involves lots of pain and discomfort and (sometimes literal) shit. So I’m going to try to enjoy the last couple months of this. Even though it feels like this baby girl is trying to screw something into my bladder when she moves. Even though Tums are now a routine part of my meals. Even though my body is expanding and shifting and waddling. Because eventually, I won’t have a legitimate excuse for sausage link boob sweat and weight gain. I will have another little human to defy me and give me demon looks and sneak her eggs into the trash. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. ❤
In addition to his ever-growing number of questions (all of which are preceded by, “mom”, “mom”, “hey mom”, “mom”, “moooooooom”), Adam continues to develop his own personality. Which I’ve discovered is a lot more like Andy’s than mine. For example, Adam LOVES talking to people. Random people. People walking by on the street. People trying to do work at coffee shops. People riding bikes. Everyone. Which forces ME to talk to people. And I fucking hate talking to people. Not all the time. Of course I enjoy talking to family and friends when I have things to say. But never in my child or adult life would I go out of my way to say “hi” to a stranger. If I have the option to do something online vs. calling, I will do it. Every time. But Adam loves talking to everyone. And telling them what he’s doing. “HIIIIII! I’m Adam. We’re playing with sidewalk chalk!!” “HIIIII! My name is Adam! I’m eating a strawberry!!” “HIIIIII! We are going to the store!!” After which I have to smile nicely and wave to the person, hoping they don’t come over and try to socially engage any further. Ugh! Adam illustrates his confidence in other ways throughout the day, too. Like when he has to go to the bathroom. He can pee on the potty by himself, but I always know when he’s pooped because he will just yell, “WIPE!!!!!” (Rude). Another time, he walked into our room in the middle of the night and woke me up to tell me the ninja turtle night light in his room needs new batteries. I told him we would change them in the morning and he just said, “Ya. Good!” and walked back into his room. (Rude). He’s definitely the boss in his relationship with Nick, too. I’m sure part of that is just an aspect of being the oldest. I’m sure I was a total dick to my sisters when they were little. But that’s because the oldest is obviously the wisest and coolest and most interesting. Duh.
Nick has entered the phase Andy likes to call, “language explosion”. A month ago, I started freaking out because he wasn’t using 2-word phrases (which my developmental book tells me 2-yr-olds should be doing). Literally the next day, he started doing it. And then it seemed like each day he started saying/doing something new. It’s still fairly Yoda-esque sometimes. He likes to say phrases that he knows I’m about to say, or things I say all the time (“Don’t spill, please!” “Don’t fall!” “There you go.”). But he might express it, “Fall, don’t please, Nick.” (close enough). He will also attempt new words or phrases that he didn’t used to. Much like Adam, he likes all kinds of vehicles. Planes, trains, cars, boats, dump trucks, taxis…the whole shebang. Police cars and fire trucks are some of his favorites. Lucky for him, we live not far from a fire station, so we will frequently hear sirens coming and going throughout the day. So when he hears a siren, he will attempt to yell, “FIRE TRUCK!!” Which comes out as, “FAH CUCK!!”. Which I hear as, “FAT COCK!!” No joke, you guys. That’s exactly what it sounds like. The first time I heard it, I was like, “Ummmm, what’s up?” I mean, I’m not always the best about not cursing around my kids, but I don’t think I have ever uttered that phrase in my life. I just don’t really find a use for it. I’m saying, it doesn’t work itself into my daily life. So I eventually figured it out. “Ohhhhhhhh. Fi-YeR TRRRRRRuck”. Somehow I think if I over-annunciate each syllable he will immediately say the word appropriately instead of shouting about obscene body parts. I just hope his teachers don’t report me. Speaking of teachers, I am so grateful for them. Nick randomly started identifying colors and (a few) letters the other day. And while I probably took the time to sit down with Adam when he was Nick’s age and quiz him over all that stuff, I know I haven’t done that with Nick. (Sorry 2nd child). Hopefully his teachers will continue to compensate for the lack of shit I do at home. The newest thing I’ve “taught” Nick, is how to ask Alexa (our Amazon Echo), to play “Hamilton”. I’m just a model mother, you guys. I should probably home school…
Both boys continue to change in interesting, unique ways as they grow into their own personalities. Nick is definitely a sensitive soul. It doesn’t take a lot for him to get upset. For example, today he was very distraught by the carwash. (Although, I think I was too as a neurotic, anxious child). He also gets really upset about half the time you give him his milk. He has 2 cups he likes to drink out of, the “cars” cup, and the “balls” cup. And you don’t always know which one he’s going to want. I never thought I would be the type of parent who would pour milk from one cup, into another clean cup, just because my toddler decides he prefers that particular design on the outside of the cup. But, I am that fucking parent you guys. It’s not worth the drama. And even if you do choose the right cup from the beginning, sometimes he loses it when you try to physically hand him the cup. I still haven’t figured out what he’s hoping for in this scenario. I’ve tried putting the cup on the counter or on a shelf or on the floor for him to grab. And he just cries and walks over to the cup and tips it over…like the video of those asshole cats who knock things off of tables. WHY?!?! Nick had a surprising emotional response when we were reading a book a couple weeks ago. It’s a pop-up book about the Arizona desert and has lots of cool visuals of animals that can wiggle and move. One of these visuals depicts a pretty large tarantula. You pull a tab and his long legs move around. While we were reading that page, Nick gets a terrified look on his face and starts crying and backing up, as if the spider was real and going to walk off the page. We had read this book several times before with no issues, but I guess this time my tab-pulling skills were just too realistic for him. I tried to console him and show him it wasn’t real by touching the visual and closing the page, etc. And then…as he continued to get more upset…I slowly started feeling scared that the spider was real. That’s how easy it is to get me to have an irrational fear. For my toddler to have one. And I think I know whose personality Nick has inherited….
Although I give Adam his fair share of timeouts most days, he really is getting better. He asks lots of questions, but also seems to understand more and more. He has started giving compliments, which I’m not going to complain about. But he’s smart about it. For example, when he’s having “resting time” (aka he doesn’t nap but I still need a mental break so I make him sit still for as long as he’ll tolerate), he starts dishing out the compliments. I usually tell him that I’m not going to talk to him during resting time, it’s time to lie still and be quiet. So the other day he gently interrupts with, “can I talk to you for just a little second?” And when I look at him he says, “I like your pants”. Which I know isn’t true because I was wearing 1 of 3 pairs of leggings I rotate through regularly!! It was still pretty cute, though J He also has some very clear preferences for different things, people, or activities. He really likes listening to musicals, specifically “Waitress”, “Hamilton”, and “Book of Mormon” (yup, parent of the year). He loves his friends Annabelle and Felix from school. And he LOVES listening to this audio book while we’re in the car. It’s a narration of “Carnival of the Animals” with the classical pieces played throughout and John Lithgow narrating. It’s really cute and the music is great, but we listen to it all. the. time. Adam has asked lots of questions about this recording, specifically the voice telling the story. We tell him that voice is the narrator, someone who tells the story, and this particular narrator is John Lithgow. I’m not sure if that makes sense to him, but he does try to put things into context. Like when we were at the St. Patrick’s Day parade, there were cars with local politicians going by. Adam asked about the people and seemed to be taking it all in when he asked, “Where does John Lithgow live?” ….what? I’m not sure if he thinks that a narrator is a politician or what, but I don’t know where the fuck John Lithgow lives.
Both boys continue to change and mature so fast. Though I can definitely see changes more drastically with Nick. He’s nearing what we called the “language explosion” phase with Adam. It seemed like at 2, all of sudden Adam was talking like a little person. Nick isn’t quite there yet, but it seems like every day he says 10 more words than the day before. Some of my favorites are “bussssss” (heavy emphasis on the “s” sound), “fawk” (supposed to be “fork” but toooootally sounds like “fuck”), “shht” (I think he’s trying to say “shirt”, but he might honestly mean “shit”), and “ouch” (which makes me think of E.T. every time). It’s really, really fun to watch him try out new sounds and words. He gets actively excited when he can make the connection between a word and the actual thing. For example, any time he hears an airplane sound, he points to the sky and shouts (yes, shouts), “PAAAAAAAANNNNNE!!” He did this repeatedly at the park the other day and I had to reaffirm, “Yes, plane. Yup, that’s a plane. Ya, I see it. Plane. PLANE!!” You would think he was warning us all of some impending alien invasion. He’s very, very concerned about that fucking plane.
Nick continues to be much sweeter than Adam…and much more dramatic. He demands to be held much of the day, which is only getting more and more difficult. But he will nestle his little head into the crook of my neck and pat my back. Which I find fucking adorable and worth carrying the extra weight. But it’s also becoming more apparent that we are approaching the 2’s. Nick can say “nnnno!” like a sass. a. frass. He will also get this pouty face that you can only partially see because he will turn halfway away from you. Not far enough around that he can’t see that you’re watching his little act, but far enough around that you know he’s making a point. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, his little fits will escalate to the point where he just lies flat on the floor. Completely flat. He doesn’t usually cry or kick or anything, he just flops down. Like a rug. Sometimes he will try to collapse like this while I’m picking him up to change him. So I have to do my best to not drop what feels like a 30lb noodle. It’s good times.
Adam’s fits have actually gotten a little better. I feel like now that he can communicate so well, he’s able to talk through stuff easier (and I’m able to bribe him more effectively). I think we’ve entered the “I’m going to ask you 30 million questions a day” phase. Which in some ways, I’m excited about. He can ask some really interesting and pertinent questions. However, other times, not only do I not have the energy to respond to his questions, but I don’t always know the answers! Adam has become really interested in Andy’s medical journals that come in the mail. By interested, I mean he looks at the pictures. So now he’ll ask me questions about medicines and bodily organs. And I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. One time he asked me what the baby in my tummy eats and I tried to explain how food breaks down in my stomach and nutrients are shared with the baby. And I quickly realized, I don’t know how the fuck food breaks down. I think I threw in words like “proteins” and “vitamins”? What? Many of my answers have become, “ask your dad”, “you’ll have to wait to til your dad gets home”, “dad will know”. One of Adam’s recent fascinations is with blood. (That doesn’t sound creepy or anything…). I think it’s hard for him to understand that bodies have lots of blood in them all the time and that’s a good thing…vs. when you get hurt and you bleed. One time he asked me, “what happens when the blood stops?” I had to consciously stop my anxiety-prone brain from thinking about all of my blood just spontaneously stopping all at once and me collapsing to the ground and dying!!! …”Ask your dad”
Nick, I’m sorry I act annoyed when you bring me “Are You My Mother?” to read for the 50th time in a day. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. Only the bird is his mother. Nobody else is his fucking mother. How in the world could a car be a bird’s mother? I mean, think about it. It makes no sense. I know you enjoy pointing out all the animals and yelling, “CAH! CAH! CAH! CAH!” incessantly until I acknowledge the cow on the page. It’s really exciting that you are putting more and more words together (even if only I understand what you’re actually saying), but I just need a break from that book. You should start getting really into those 10 page cardboard Mickey Mouse books that take less than a minute to read. I think those would really expand your intellectual capacity. Let’s make this happen. Adam, I’m sorry I get impatient when you ask me 1500 questions a day. All of which begin with, “Mom. Moooooooom. Mom? MOM!” I need you to know, I am right here. I know that it’s me you’re talking to. I always know. You probably never have to address me directly, because I fucking know. However, I do find it pretty adorable that you’re interested in what’s going on with my “bebe.” I know you love looking at the pictures on my phone app that tell you how big my baby is and what exciting things are happening week by week. You’ve already raised some very interesting questions, such as, “How does your baby come out? Does it explode out your BUTT!?” I know I answered “no” to that question, but if I’m being real with you, a more accurate answer would be “kind of.” It’s also nice that you want to share our exciting news with the world. Specifically the check-out cashier at CostCo. I’m sure he appreciated knowing I have a baby in my tummy (only 6 weeks at the time). I know that I should’ve learned by now that you listen to every single word I say and will repeat it to strangers, but let’s work on keeping secrets. Except from me. You have to tell me everything all of the time. Forever.
scrumtrulescence 