what no one tells you: gory details

So in honor of my sister in law passing her due date (come on baby!!!) I thought I'd take a little second to talk labor and delivery. I'm talking the. gory. details. I'm warning you now, so if this isn't your thing, you know how to close out of a browser, right? 

aaannnddd.....

Oh, hi, you're still here? Good. Let's get down to business. 

Your water will likely not break in a huge gush on the sidewalk and your contractions will not start within 3 seconds and you will not have the baby 20 minutes after that. 

Contrary to popular belief, it is not a requirement to scream profanities at your husband while contracting. It's perfectly fine to not be a raging lunatic. 

A magical maxi pad-esque bed sheet is going to appear under you. You are going to wonder why that is at all necessary. You'll be enlightened.

Though your husband/partner/doula/coach may be a champ about the whole thing, there will be times where you want to punch someone in the throat: for me, this was the OB. Choose wisely. 

When the grand finale is occurring, you may or may not be wondering when a giant alien with a Stewie head crawled inside of you. 

You will not care that your babe is a slimy mess. It will be the sweetest slimy mess you ever did see. 

You may have leopard spots after pushing that sucker out. I'm talking faux chicken pox all over yo' face. 

When your family comes to visit you the baby, your hair will be a sweaty mess and your eyeliner will be on your chin.

Every time you fall asleep the nurse will come in to take your blood pressure, or check your temperature, or change your ice pack, or some other nonsense. 

Ice packs are not nonsense. Needles + Stitches. That's all I'm going to say.

You're going to be wearing mesh underwear by the end of it all. Mesh. That's not the worst part....You're going to love it. You will embrace the mesh and their loose-fitting ways. You are going to wonder if you should throw out all of your Victoria's Secret purchases and just clear out the hospital underwear closets instead (I don't think they really have full closets dedicated to this fancy undergarment, but they might...they might).

Stool softeners and fiber bars will be your diet (among other, less critical things like actual food). 

You will never sleep again.

But then you will. And you'll realize there's a light at the end of the tunnel. And you'll forget the whole thing and get knocked up in a jiffy (or you won't, because you didn't completely forget, like me).

Oh, wait, I forgot. You do end up with this at the end:

 totally worth it.

P.S. Seeing as everyone's experience is very different...have anything to add?? ; )

linking up with heather and megan

B-Day #2 and Father's Day

So yesterday we had a little family party for the Carter Man with the grandparents, aunts and uncles. It was a good time, and not stressful since we kept it simple (nobody likes a stressful party). At first C-Man was a bit shy, what with all the 10 or so people staring at him, but eventually he warmed up to being star of the show. He ended up eating some cake (food isn't really his thing), actually paid attention while opening his presents, and played and played and played. He almost did his downward dog pose for everyone, but he got stage fright mid-pose. Yeah, Carter does downward dog, have I mentioned that before? He's a yoga baby. You say "Carter, do downward dog." And he does it. A smarty pants, that one. Here are some pictures for your enjoyment. First: decorations. Second: the man.

It was a great time.

And father's day. Aaawwweesooommee (truth. Tom said it was). He loved his gift (a golf related living social deal). He loved going to the park (we have the best park down the road) and he loved not having to do all those darn chores that go along with the day (although he ended up doing some when I wasn't looking). And now I'm sitting here writing and he's doing the dishes. Really?  Is he this good? He is, friends. Get yourself a husband that does the dishes and you have won. BIG time. OK, before you think I'm horrible for not taking over on the dishes front, relax. I got up to do them, but he declined.

Off to drink some lime-a-ritas (they're ok) with the best Dad ever (well, our own Dads were pretty awesome themselves so I guess the title can be shared).

Carter is 1!

So Carter turned one this week. Don't worry, this isn't going to be a sappy post about how this year flew and how just yesterday I remember pushing him out into the cold, brutal world (literally). No...those are boring.

This is a short one (promise there will be a deeper, more interesting one in just a couple of days, I'm playing catch up on my work since I took time off for his birthday! And our anniversary, which was the following day!)

This is how cute he is:

I wasn't joking when I said he was cute. Right?...Right??

Here we are as a little family:

And here is one where we all look a little {a lot} goofy because I have promised to not post only good pictures (I am deeming the above two as good pictures of us).

P.S. I've said it before, but our photographer is awesome. I love her. If you live in New England you must check her out. Now.

On to other things:

We took Carter to the aquarium. He had a blast (and a meltdown because he wanted to touch a little shark in a touch pool and we couldn't let him) But I touched it! (sshh, don't tell him, hysteria would ensue).

He got some cool toys and a shirt and a sea turtle back pack (awesome) and some other things. It was a ton of fun and couldn't have gone better.

Alright, now you know I'm still alive. I've go to catch up on work and then it will be all about the blog. Some big things are in the works. Like BIG THINGS. Obviously a blog with 11 followers has huge, world changing events on a daily basis. Someone maybe said something about sponsoring a certain someone and mmaayyybbee a giveaway.

yup. 

Hush Little Baby...

As Carter's falling asleep I usually sing Hush Little Baby to him. The only issue is that I have no idea what the real words are. It usually starts off pretty strong:

Hush little baby don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird
And if that mocking bird don't sing
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring
And if that diamond ring don't shine... (this line is where I go awry for some reason)


And this is where it gets a little rocky. Usually it goes something like this:

Mama's gonna buy you a clementine
And if that clementine's not sweet
Mama's gonna buy you your very own street
And if your very own street's too long
Mama's gonna buy you a ping pong


*          *          *


And as the song goes on and I start to lose ideas, it usually becomes a bit inappropriate for a baby:

And if that big gun shoots real hard
Mama's gonna buy you a body guard
And if that body guard is stupid
Mama's gonna buy you your very own cupid
And if your very own cupid shoots arrows


And then it just gets boring:

Mama's gonna buy you a new wheelbarrow
And if...


How about you? Do you make up your own lyrics to songs? Do yours ever get as crazy as mine?

P.S. In other news, Carter said "book" yesterday. Unfortunately, I missed it but his Daddy heard it and so did Nana because they were doing Face Time on the ipad when he said it! This is his second word. His first was "Mama," which I did hear the first time! And now he says it regularly : ) Now that's music to my ears.

Excuses

Today C was being cute laying on his Boppy trying to eat his Sophie so I decided to sit on the ground in the living room and eat lunch next to him; pretty much just like every other day. My delicious C-allergen-free lunch was a whole wheat wrap, spring mix lettuce and hummus.

Two hours later I kicked one of his toys on the floor and looked down to see what it was. I was not-so-pleasantly surprised by large tan crustiness on the bottom of my yoga pants...my hummus from lunch...eww. What's worse...I'm sitting here at my computer--still--wearing--them. Yup.  Didn't even wash it off.

I love being a mom. It gives you an excuse to be gross sometimes.