Gentle Reminder

Dear self,

Don't forget you love sleep and that you think mornings are horrible.

From time to time, you like to pretend you love school and work, when really - you love guacamole, you really really do.

Toys for Monkey

I get ideas in my head...too many ideas. I tend to think I can do anything, or at the very least that I can make anything. If you couple the fact that I think I can make anything with the fact that I love to make just about everything you have an endless supply of projects and to-do lists. So, when I found myself browsing for new toys that Kahlo just "must have" (which really means that I must have for her) the thought came accross my mind to make her some toys myself. So I did. I spent last weekend, not working, not studying, not going to class, not cooking, not cleaning, not being productive in any way what-so-ever...BUT instead of all those (not nearly as fun) things, I found myself, cutting and sanding wood and painting my very own designs onto blocks. Although they did not come out perfect... they did come out - I now have a little more of an idea on how I can make them even better next time!

here they are...

Bear



Elephant



Monkey



Owl



Pigs



Shark



All mixed together.

monster makes noise

Last night, when we went to check on Kahlo she was on her stomach with her knees folded and her rear up in the air. It was cute. Damn cute. I held Amy close to me as we had an ultra-cheesy-motherly moment of staring at our perfect child [or monster - whatever]. We ohhhhed and awwwwed much longer than any two adults should [at least any two adults with a life outside of parenthood]. Just as I was questioning my sanity for staring so long at a small child sleep [I do have MANY MANY other things that should be done], Kahlo let out the largest, nastiest fart you could EVER imagine! I'm not sure how such a loud noise comes from such a small butt...we both almost died trying to keep the laughter down to a minimum...we need more laughs like that...

momma and baby

As promised...On Sunday I took over all baby duties and Amy got some much needed rest.

Our day began as follows

5:43am

Amy: Are you really going to let me sleep in?

Me: [in a deep coma-like stupor] uhmmhmmm

Amy: Then why are you sleeping?

Me: [vague sounds of a wailing baby begin to find their way to my ears] I'm up!!!!

within the first 2.5 minutes I leap out of bed, use the restroom, change a diaper, make a bottle, grab my blanket and pillow and small child...and we journey to the living room to begin our day...

This is a pictorial essay of our morning...

we stumble into the living room suck down a bottle and play for hours [I spent my early morning still in a stupor, getting slapped by the occasional stray ball or baby foot]

Kahlo slept for about half an hour...I dont have a picture of this as I was trying my best to sleep AND stay alert. [hardwood floors do NOT make for a comfortable nap]


I got dressed for my day...[Kahlo watched from the bathroom floor]





We [she] ate





She fed herself











Let the dog out [after she begs and begs and begs then does the pee pee dance]








Boiled water






Made bottles






Packed diaper bag





Went to the grocery store for ingredients to mommies favorite meal





Got take out of mommies favorite brunch





woke mommy and wowed her with our productivity [10:30am]



for the purpose of NOT being repetitive I left out feedings and diaper changes (1 poopie and 3 wet]

As a side note: Amy was very impressed with all that I had gotten accomplished [until she walked out of the bedroom and found toys scattered, baby food all over the kitchen, dirty clothes in the bathroom, formula spilled on the counter...]

When you hate what you love

I hated being pregnant…the whole thing…every day…I hated it. It was a horrible miserable experience that felt like some evil combination of the flu and pneumonia and towards the end, just to make things even better, my entire self swelled up to the point I was seriously concerned I would burst out of my own skin…it was awful…pure awful.

At one point [pretty early on] I became bitter – I felt lied to, betrayed, deceived by all of those women [including my wife] who had told me how much they loved being pregnant. Who loves feeling like they have the flu for 9 long, puffy, nauseas months? They had tricked me and I fell for it. I often wondered through my pregnancy how the human race had sustained itself…why did people keep having children – sure the kids were great, I love the two that came from my wife’s womb – but why would anyone have more than one! When faced with my questions [usually in the form of a rant] Amy would just respond casually “oh, I didn’t find it to be that bad, I liked it”. Yet, whenever I would complain about something like, waking up every hour to go pee, she would get this wicked smile on her face and say “yah, I didn’t like that part”…really? Who would?!?! Then she would add something extra like “hey, have you peed on yourself while you sneezed yet? No? Well, make sure you cross your legs when you sneeze” and she was right… I DID pee on myself..A LOT…

My wife had described childbirth as invigorating, empowering, liberating all the wonderful ing’s you could imagine. Maybe, just maybe, childbirth would be the reward for pregnancy…I anxiously awaited her arrival. I waited for my due date to come, then I waited daily for her to decide today was the day…she didn’t want to come out…she would have to be forced out…day 1 of induction, no problem…this I could do…with my wife next to me, I did feel a bit empowered, then day 2 came – most of day two is a blur – after contractions so horrible [not invigorating] that I was naked throwing up on the floor, I gave in to the temptation of drugs. The nurse decided I needed an anti-nausea medicine to stop the vomiting – apparently the drug works by putting you into a deep coma, therefore preventing any body fluids from coming up [not a literal coma, of course]. Well I hardly remember any of the events leading up to my c-section… but what I do remember is that my c-section was NOT invigorating, or any other ing’s…

But Kahlo was.

And suddenly when I look back, pregnancy wasn’t so bad. My wife was always amazing. Every morning she kissed my stomach and talked to our baby. She paid attention to my every need. She loved me when I was unlovable. Feeling Kahlo kick inside of me was incredible. Watching our baby grow [and grow and grow and grow] inside of my stomach was truly amazing.

Having her here, on the outside, melts my heart.

I want another. I want to do it all over again. But not yet…

Right now is my best friends turn! She just found out her wife is pregnant! I cant wait...
I hope for my best friend, her wife is better at being pregnant than I was…

A conversatin with my son...

We were all sitting on the front porch (Pi, BT, Kahlo and myself) and one of the kids asked how old Kahlo was now. "7 months" I say "so that makes BT 12 years and 7 months old (she was also born in August) and that makes me 32 years and 7 months old (as I was born in August as well) and that makes Mommy 33 years and 7 months old (yes, she too was born in August)" Pi looks at me and says "Oh, so I'm 10 years and 7 months old?" Slightly confused, I respond "no, you were born in March...you just had a birthday, you are not even 10 years and 1 month old yet."

You can see the wheels turning in his head... you can see thoughts and realizations processing as the synapses begin to fire... he says "OH, I GET IT!!! You birthday is the day you were BORN!!! I always thought mommy just picked that day!"

seriously? really where does this come from? I mean... he is a bright boy...Honor roll student, and he's not that kid thats smart and has no common sense... he gets things - he pays attention... seriously...how can this be a question... where have I gone wrong... hmmmm