I think I just blue myself.

My to do list is a million miles long, my house could be on Hoarders (as an after picture not a before...you know how it looks all cleaned up but still you can tell there's a problem? Mine is like that but maybe a little worse because you can actually see a lot of the mess). I've been sick. The baby has been teething. The teen has been trying to get out of going to school everyday of my life. The husband has been working long hours and desperately needs a break. So naturally, it's time to talk about something very important in my life. The TeeVee. (Which, quick anecdote - I went to a baby shower and dominated the games 3 for 3...and the one I dominated the most? I won thanks to TeeVee (naming the kids on TV shows). So, all that time spent watching TV wasn't a total waste after all. It helped me win some movie tickets and a reputation.)

I've been beside myself since 30 Rock went off the air. I'm currently making my way through the entire season on Netflix for probably the fourth time. The Office is going to end soon and we all know that it's time because it is drunk and needs to go home but I know I'm going to be sad, probably even cry like a baby (I know what those sound like because I have one who is doing that right now) because I did (and  still do) every time I watch the episode where Michael leaves. Parks and Rec has been renewed for a sixth season which makes my pants do the happy dance. I need more Ron Swanson in my life. But the most important TEEVEE event of the year, dare I say decade, is happening on May 26 and I CANNOT WAIT. I have literally blocked my calendar for the entire day to devote myself to Netflix because THE BLUTHS ARE BACK. Aaaaaaaaah! EVERYBODY CALM DOWN AND LET ME TALK.

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Arrested Development. Like, seriously for reals. LOVE.



*swoon*

Mad as a hatter, I am. Yoda, also.

My life has been very hectic lately. Between a 5K and family drama and a teething baby and a teen on a 2 week spring break and work stuff and spending any free moment I have laying in bed I am exhausted.

Here is what has been happening in my life. Because you need to know. THE WHOLE WORLD NEEDS TO KNOW.

OMG, someone sedate me. STAT.


The Teen (formerly known as The Kid)
She's as happy as a teenager can be expected to be. If you ask her, I'm either too nosey or I ignore her. Sigh. She tries pulling the same tricks I did, but I've got her number. It's 867-5309.

Middle school is the worst. I keep telling her it will get better. I don't tell her she'll be 30 when it finally happens.

I worry that she isn't eating right, is sleeping too much, and that she doesn't seem to have a best friend.  I also worry that she's not applying herself in classes where she doesn't like the subject or the teacher and that she won't learn that the only person she is hurting is herself.

The Baby
She's a very happy baby when she is getting what she wants when she wants it. Almost 13 year difference between my girls and they act the same way, FYI. 

She's very advanced and gifted. OBVIOUSLY. She has hit every milestone early or on time. Including teeth. TEETH. We'll get to that in a bit.

We just started a baby sign language class and she already signed "eat" or she could have been trying to lick the dried baby food off her hand. Either way, GIFTED.

Speaking of food...she loves it. Do not get between her and a yogurt melt or there will be HELL TO PAY. There are so many different philosphies about baby food and when they can have certain things, and in what form, and I'm almost over it. Seriously. Over. It. I ended up just buying a bunch of baby food from the store despite my intentions to Make! All! The! Food!. I bought organic, over priced stuff to help me feel better about my parenting. Maybe I'll get my shit together and actually do a menu plan and a grocery list and schedule time once a week to Prepare! All! The! Meals! but probably not.

Also, my house has been taken over by baby stuff. I frequently ask myself, "Where did all this stuff come from?" and then I remember Amazon.


Breastfeeding / Pumping
Breastfeeding with my first was an epic fail caused by overactive letdown, thrush, and being young and impatient and embarrassed to have to ask for a place to pump when I went back to work when she was 8 weeks old.

With my second, I had overactive letdown and then diminishing supply because of supplementing with formula for a myriad of reasons. If I forget to take my More Milk Plus or don't drink enough during the day (water, not whiskey) I notice a considerable difference. I struggle to pump the 12 ounces she needs from me while I am away. When I'm home, she nurses about every 2 hours and what feels like all night long. I know now that she is eating more solids that will mean my supply may dip even further. My goal is to make it to 1 year, then nurse when we are together until she is sick of it or she's 2, whichever comes first, but it's not looking good. We have started to supplement with formula because I just don't have the time or energy to pump every free moment of my life. And I have to be okay with that.

Also, she bit me on my tender parts.

Family Dramz
Thank god the people who are causing this drama do not live within 500 miles of me because so help me God. The main point of contention really boils down to we have very different views of what good parenting is and it makes me sad. For them. Not me. Have you seen those kids of mine?  I don't like to brag, but they are fucking awesome.

And now my mom is mad at me for swearing. Way to go, Internet.


Work
Busy with a capital B. Also part of the reason that I'm having a hard time with pumping. Meetings! Off site! All the times!

I can't disclose more than that or else I would have to kill you and I'm not a violent person so that would be a challenge for me.

A challenge I would welcome.

J to the K.
 
5K
I died, but I came back, just like Jesus, I am a zombie. Worship me.

Too far? 

This is my life now: napping and pooping.

ERMAHGERD YOU GUYS! Today is NATIONAL NAPPING DAY!

Why didn't anybody tell me? I would have taken the day off! Although, really, it should be a federally recognized holiday complete with paid time off. Amirite?

Let's see how many other made up Internet-y words I can use in this post today.

El oh el.

I really need the naps. Like, for realsies. I think I slept about 3 hours in 3 days. The Baby is having her first bout of constipation (I think the carrots are the likely culprit because the peas and bananas and avocados and sweet potatoes went through her system just fine) and it had both of us crying and sweating and cursing the gods, or in her case, cursing me (the look on her sad little face was very "What the hell? Do I need to scream louder for you to get my point, woman?). Also, we did The Thing that other parents don't normally tell you about, you know what it is, please don't make me say it.

Sigh.

Okay.

We pulled poop out of her butt. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. If you survey 100 parents and nobody admits to pulling poop out of their kid's butt then probably 85% of them are dirty, rotten liars. Welcome to Parenthood. It's incredibly glamorous.

We've given her prune juice (baby move) and pear juice diluted with water and while it helped it didn't really get anything moving. So, last night, after changing my mind a million different times I finally broke down and agreed with my husband to give her the babylax (liquid glycerin suppository). It worked but it was The Terrible. I wiped her head with a cool washcloth and held her small, sweaty, little body against mine and just tried to comfort her while she screamed and cried and strained and made noises that broke my heart into a million pieces.

It's not completely over yet...and I am anxiously checking my phone from updates from my nanny (aka my sister) to see how she is doing. So far I've gotten a few videos that show she is just fine (which I totally needed). 


TMI? Probably. Maybe a new section on the blog: The Poop Diaries?

It's happening.

The happity hap hap haps.

Hello Internet! I had to take a break after Nablopomo. Blogging errryday (minus weekends because obviously) was tough. I don't know how so many of you churn out thoughtful, engaging writing errryday and still do other things like eat and sleep.

Life here in casa de mi is great.

I can't complain.

Well, I can, but I won't.

The Husband and I are beyond tired but we have a healthy, happy baby so we are so grateful. Also, she's cute so that helps. We have a relatively healthy, moody teenager -- she's also cute but that makes it harder because I want to lock her in a tower to keep her away from the boys. And there will be a time where I become cool again. I know it. Don't you tell me any different, Willis. We were watching Double Divas (judgement free zone here, people) and Molly and her daughter were getting pedicures and she started acting silly and The Kid looked at me and said, "ugh, that is so you."

I know she wanted me to be offended but joke's on her because all it did was give me more ideas on how to embarrass her and ruin her life which is my purpose in life so inherface.

Time for sleeps.

P.S. I have so many things to write but not enough time to write them because I spend seconds writing the drivel above so I can get back to watching Parks and Rec and playing my puzzles. I'm practicing for when I'm 80.

P.P.S. I meant to tell you in that last P.S. that I'm going to BlogHer! Are you!? Tell me! Let's be friends! Or avoid each other, if that's what you prefer. Sniff.

The last one.

"When do you feel your sexiest?"

I don't recall feeling sexy in a very, very, very long time. Between fertility drugs and the pregnancy and the baby, feeling sexy is on the bottom of the list. Right next to "exercise" and "eat healthy".

I could say I feel sexiest after a day of pampering, manicure, make up, fancy clothes...but the truth is that just makes me feel really tired. Also, hot. As in sweaty. So much work to make the beautifuls. Just thinking about it is making me want a nap.

The truth is I feel sexy when my husband makes me feel sexy (all together now...awwww). When he tells me I'm pretty (which has to be hard, lately) or pauses to give me a kiss or hold my hand or a high-five because that's how we do it, yo.

Nablopomo is no mo.

Thank Baby Jesus, fo sho.

Peace out, spiders.

Cuz you live in the interNET. Get it? GET IT?

I slay me.

Nap, yes?