How Many Adults does it Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

I think there is some old joke about how many blondes it takes to screw in a lightbulb. Well, the joke in our household the last few days has been...how many adults does it take to plug in a nightlight. The answer, my friends, is zero. Apparently, all it takes is a 22 month old!

To go with Trent's new pirate themed room, I bought a cute little pirate nightlight which arrived last week. On Monday, I opened the package and tried to plug the nightlight into the wall. Much to my surprise it wouldn't fit into the plug no matter how much I tried to adjust those two little prong things. I turned the light upside down and the nightlight fit into the plug perfectly. Needless to say, I was pissed! I called Mark at work and told him all about the situation, as if it were some sort of dire emergency. If I recall correctly, I said something like, "What flipping idiot makes a lightbulb that only works when it's plugged in upside down?"

As soon as Mark got home that night, he walked into the room and tried to plug the light in correctly. He couldn't get the stinking thing to fit either! We both turned various parts of the nightlight around but nothing worked. Trent watched us with a look of total amusement on his face as his mom and dad tried, in vain, to figure out how to manipulate the nightlight cover so that it would work. We could't figure it out.

Fast forward to today and I am putting clothes away in Trent's room as Trent stares at the upside nightlight. I said, "Trent, mommy and daddy can't figure out how to make the light work. You try to fix it." He turned to me with a very serious look on his face, almost as if he understood and was accepting the challenge. The little monster stared at the light, walked toward it, bent down low and stared at it for a few seconds. I laughed and said, "Fix it, buddy." Trent then reached forward, grabbed the light and turned it right side up in a way that Mark and I apparently never tried. He then looked at the light and said, "Cooooolllll." I was dumbstruck.

So, I guess the only idiots touching the nightlight was me and Mark...not the poor manufacturer. It is a sad, sad day when a two-year old can stare and something and fix it so easily when a thirty and a thirty-four year old couldn't figure it out for days!

Birth Plans...Smurf Plans!

My sister-in-law, Tami, and I had a long conversation about all things baby today. We talked about everything from breast pumps, to caring for a circumcision, to epidurals. This all got me thinking about the old show One Born Every Minute and how funny some of the mothers were who came into the hospital with a ten page birth plan typed out and disseminated to all appropriate hospital staff. I never understood this because I wasn't that anal about Trent's birth plan.

When we went to the hospital to give birth to Trent, my only plan was that I wanted to go as long as possible without getting an epidural and if I needed one, I would get one. As my doctor always says, "Would you go to the dentist and get a root canal or a tooth pulled without pain medicine? No! So why would you go without pain medicine when you are literally being ripped open?" Epidurals aren't bad for babies anymore...the babies don't come out all groggy like they did years ago.

With Trent, I went to the hospital the day after my due date so that I could be induced but little did I know, I was having contractions and would have went into labor naturally that day anyway. I was given whatever pill it is to get the ball roll around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning. It didn't push me into active labor so I was given Pitocin around noon and let me tell you, that crap is baby rocket fuel. Less then ten minutes after that stuff hit my IV, I was doubled over in pain. The contractions were coming so fast that I couldn't catch my breath. That stuff is nothing to mess with! Trent's heart rate dropped a little bit so I was given oxygen because like I said, the contractions were so quick!

I instantly began to dilate. I went as long as I could (7cm) but when the anesthesiologist, who just so happened to be the spitting image of the Asian man from The Hangover, came into my room and offered to give me the epidural, it took me one second to say, "YESSSS!" I went from feeling like someone was knotting my insides into little balls and then stomping on them repeatedly to bliss. Talk about instant relief. Mark and I were soon watching movies and napping comfortably. We were occasionally interrupted by the nurse who had to check dilation but it was a breeze from that point on! I dilated the remaining three centimeters in about ten minutes and pushed for a whopping fifteen minutes.

I was glad that I didn't go into labor with this strict idea that the birth had to go specifically as planned like many women do. I just wanted to go with the flow and whatever needed to happen, would happen. We were relaxed the entire time. I appreciate the woman who do it au natural! I have had a few friends who have done it and I look up to you ladies, really, I do. Some women want a natural childbirth just to say that they did it...I have heard time and time again, "If my mom could do it, why can't I?" My answer: I am sure that you can but why would you want to?! Your vag is in so much pain in the days, and in my case, weeks, afterward, why compound the problem?!

My thoughts on the situation, for what they are worth...I would rather enjoy the experience and have the baby enter into this world without the stress of screaming and yelling that accompanies an epidural-free labor. To those of you who can push an, in my case, eight and a half pound baby out of your hoo hah...more power to you! You go girls!

My birth plan this time around: relax and do whatever I feel like doing when I get there! Oh, yeah, and have my parents here with me so that they can not only watch the Trent Monster while Mark and I are in the hospital, but they can help me with two kids afterward. As my dad just reminded however, I am an old pro at this now! I know what to do so I probably won't need as much help as I did the first time around but I'll still take my mom sticking around and cooking us dinners for as long as she wants!

Speaking of which....I have to go make dinner really quick before Mark comes home so excuse any typos in this post...I will not be reviewing it before posting!

Poop is Funny...Apparently.

I decided to venture outside with Trent today because the poor kid has been cooped up in the house for a week! We were going to go back to gymnastics today but we found out that the flu is still going around the group of kids in his class; so, I reluctantly decided to keep him home today. We've gone on a few errands this last week but he hasn't had the chance to really go anywhere and run around.

So, I looked outside and it looked bright and sunny (turns out, looks can be deceiving because it was freezing)! I threw some shoes and a sweatshirt on him, grabbed a big garbage bag and decided to pick up the dog poo while Trent played outside. I am very embarrassed to admit that with the snow that's been on the ground, we haven't picked up the dog poop in FOREVER! Now that the snow has melted, I decided that today was as good a day as any to roam the yard and pick up old logs.

Trent ran around the back half of the acre for a while but then decided to investigate the situation and see what it was that I was putting into that big trash bag. He approached very slowly and with a mischievous look in his eyes. He then saw what I was putting into the scooper and he began to scream manically, "Poop! Poop!" over and over and over. I couldn't help but laugh at the little man, but he cracked me up. What was even more funny was that he began to trail me on the grass, point and laugh hysterically every time he saw a dog poo. Needless to say, I had a great second pair of eyes today.

I don't know what it is with my child or why he thinks poop is such a laughing matter but he does! Although I don't get his fascination with all things gross, I am grateful to have such a happy little man who takes pleasure in the simple things in life like poo!

Nesting has Officially Begun!

I am officially 30 weeks into pregnancy numero dos, which means that I only have 10 more weeks until the new little man arrives. In the grand scheme, that is not that far away. Yikes!!

Despite the fact that the entire house is torn apart thanks to Mark searching (in vain) for the expensive calculator he uses for work, which he foolishly let Trent play with, I decided that today was the day when I was going to haul my pregnant behind up a ladder so that I could retrieve all of Trent's old clothes, sort them, wash them and put them in the new baby's room. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but a few loads of laundry later, I am kind of regretting starting this project. To make more work for myself, I also decided to sort throw three large bins of clothing that a co-worker of Mark's graciously gave to us months ago. I am picking through what we want to keep for Trent and what I think my brother and his wife might want for their little boy coming in July, all while Trent is mixing up piles of clothes and throwing them in the air like he is making it rain money at a strip club. My husband will laugh at that analogy, so I had to insert it :)

To top it off, I am still putting all of the finishing touches to Trent's new room. Last weekend, we moved most of his clothes over to the new room which took a ridiculously long time because I had failed to pack away a ton of clothes that were too small for him. I am seriously questioning why I didn't wait to do this sorting and laundry this weekend which is when my parent's are (fingers crossed) coming to visit so that Mark and I could go out for dinner and see a movie. If I can ever figure out how to upload photos to the blog, I will post some of Trent's new room which is so adorable. Trent even loves the skulls I took a chance on getting, much to Mark's astonishment. Mark was convinced that Trent would be scared of them but what kind of pirate room doesn't have skulls? So, I gambled, bought some fake skulls and every time Trent sees them, he points to them, laughs and says, "Coooolllll."

On another front, Trent is talking non-stop! He repeats nearly everything that we say and Mark has learned the hard way that he needs to watch his mouth now. If Trent said "shit" one more time due to his mimicking Mark's vocabulary, I was going to have to put Mark in a time-out which totally makes me think of something...a few months ago, Mark made me a bet that I would have a harder time not cussing than him. He was so confident in his thinking that he said he would put a twenty dollar bill in a jar every time he cussed, while I would only have to put a dollar in my jar and he still thought that my jar would be double the value of his. After the lost calculator incident alone, I bet we would have weekend getaway paid for. I might need to bust out some jars and start this process!

29 Weeks

This morning, I had my 29 week appointment and the doctor said that everything is looking great! I'm measuring exactly where I am supposed to and the baby is about 3 pounds. My dr. wasn't that pleased that I had lost a pound in the last month but he gave me a pass since I had the flu for three days.

I have an appointment in 3 weeks, one 2 weeks after that, another two weeks after that, and then I am down to my weekly appointments. I cannot believe how fast this pregnancy is flying by!

Since Mark is convinced that Trent has another ear infection, I tried to get my dr. to peek into Trent's ears so I didn't have to make another appointment (Trent's pediatrician is in the same group, the same office, etc.) but my dr. refused. He said that he hadn't looked in an ear in years and wouldn't even know what to look for anymore. It was at this point that Mark said, "That's right, you're used to only looking at vaginas."

And that, everyone, is my dear husband for you. The man typically says the first thing that comes to mind unless I give him a strict talking to before a business meeting or something really important, and even the, I can't be positive that he will behave himself.

Low and behold, we have yet another appointment with the ped dr. at 4 today. This is never ending!!

The Great Potato Debate on V-Day

For Valentine's Day, Mark wanted me to make chicken cordon bleu, rather than go out to dinner like I would have preferred. Let me preface this by saying that I love to cook, I really do, but I have never made that recipe in my life. So, I found a recipe online, along with one for Rachel Ray's homemade sweet onion potatoes au gratin and a veggie side-dish. I picked up all of the ingredients that morning and was actually excited to cook that night because I have been in somewhat of a dinner rut lately.

I followed all of the recipes and everything turned out great! The chicken was perfect, the sauce was amazing and Mark loved the homemade potatoes. Mark's apparent present to me for Valentine's Day was to help with the dishes. When we both worked, he would help me with the dishes every single night! Ever since I decided to leave what Mark called my "sugar momma" job at the law firm so that I could stay at home with Trent and write on a full-time basis, he has decided that he doesn't have to be a help around the house anymore...at all, but that is for a different post.

Anyhow, back to the potatoes...we cleaned up the kitchen together and then I gave Trent a bath. When I woke up the following morning, I noticed the dish of covered potatoes sitting on the stove! We forgot to put it in the fridge :(  I was so bummed because the potatoes were so good but I knew that I had to throw them out. I tool the foil off the dish and instantly got sick to my stomach. I don't know if it was the Gruyere cheese on top but something about the smell of the old potatoes turned my stomach. I quickly decided to recover the dish and throw them away after my stomach settled down a bit. I tried to toss them again right before Mark got home from work but the same thing happened again. So, I covered the dish once again and left it on the counter, knowing that Mark would be home soon and he could do it for me.

Mark gets home and notices the dish on the counter. He asks me why the potatoes were out and I told him that I forgot to put them in the fridge so we had to throw the dish out and that I had tried but almost got sick doing so. Trent then distracted me and the conversation about the potatoes ended. Fast forward to the next day, Saturday, and I wake up and see the dish still on the counter! I lifted the foil and really almost got sick now. I honestly couldn't believe that Mark didn't throw the potatoes out after I told him about them. Now, I was slightly annoyed, not to mention disgusted with the nasty potatoes. I decide to leave them on the counter to see how long it would take for Mark to notice them.

Fast forward to Sunday...the damn dish is still on the counter! Some of you may think that I am disgusting and that I should never have let them sit out for nearly four days and I agree with you! At that point however, I really couldn't throw them out especially since Trent came down with the flu on Saturday night and I had been busy cleaning up his vomit...I really didn't want to clean up my own.

Sunday night rolls around and Mark looks at me like he is disgusted with me! I asked him what was wrong and he practically spat, "Why are the potatoes still sitting on the counter?" Baffled, I answered, "I told you that I was going to get sick if I had to throw them out and you did nothing about it!" He looked at me like I had two heads while he said, "We'll you didn't ask me to throw them away for you, now did you?"

And this, my friends, is a prime example of the difference between men and women. I thought that my telling him I was going to hurl if I had to smell them would be enough for him to clean out the dish for me but not so...apparently, I have to specifically ask him to do that for me. Thus, the lesson learned from all of this, I guess I cannot get annoyed that Mark doesn't do certain things around the house because I don't specifically, outline to the proverbial "T," what I want him to do.

I've said it before and I'll say it again....MEN!!

On a side-note, back to Valentine's day and on a much more personal note (i.e., TMI)...we put Trent down for the night and Mark looks at me and raises his eyebrows up and down. I knew what that meant. I shook my head and said, "Sorry, partner, I know it's Valentine's Day, but not tonight."

Astonished, his mouth dropped open. He said, "You always give me some on V-Day." I laughed and explained that although that might be true, I am very pregnant and dealing with a very (and I mean, very) unpleasant side-effect of pregnancy that I won't get into here (even I have my limits as crazy as that may seem). After I explained what was going on with my body, the look on his face told me that even he didn't want to get next to me, but he couldn't help but try to make me feel guilty about it. He proceeded to tell how he used to never have to ask me for sexy time, especially on V-Day.

It was at this point that I looked at my dear husband and said, "Yes, love, but you also used to send me on a full spa day at the best hotels in Vegas, take me out to a beautiful, fancy dinner, send me flowers and buy my jewelry on Valentine's Day. Now, I get to stay at home and make you dinner while you bring me flowers that you bought on your way home from Scolari's. Things change."

This made the guilt trip stop suddenly and I strongly suspect that he just might plan something special for next year :)

I'll Never Eat Doritos Again

Yesterday, Mark and I did the last of the shopping for Trent's new room. We bought some shelves, a bookcase and even a bright red rug at Home Depot. We decided to swing by Port of Subs for dinner because it was right next to Home Depot. When we were ordering, Trent spotted nacho Doritos that he just had to have. So, we bought him a bag, grabbed our sandwiches and were on our way home. 

Once we got home, Trent decided that he didn't want any of his sandwich, so I made him my "go-to" emergency dinner of Top Ramen...when all else fails, that kid will eat an entire bowl of those nasty noodles. It was really late, past his bedtime and he still needed a bath, so I totally gave in. Well, he ate his Doritos and soup and was a happy camper. 

A bit later, I was searching for him because I needed to brush his pearly whites. Low and behold, I found him in the dining room, drinking from a sippy cup that had been missing for over a day. Disgusted and knowing that it was full of curdled chocolate milk, I yelled for him to drop it but he had nearly drained it empty. At that very moment, I had this sneaking suspicion that he was going to get sick but I brushed it off. Anyhow, I brushed his teeth and put him to bed.

Fast forward to 7:20 this morning...his cries echo through the monitor so Mark went to get him from his crib while I stayed in bed because I had a crappy nights sleep. A few minutes later, Mark walks into the room with a quiet Trent who is happy and holding a new cup of chocolate milk. Mark had the most disgusted look on his face as he said, "Trent threw up everywhere and it's all over him. 

I shoot out of bed and run to Trent, who has never thrown up before. I see vomit in his hair and all down the front of him and the worst part is, it was all dry...my poor baby slept in his own fifth and I didn't even hear him get sick. After giving Mark a look that screamed, "Why don't you seem more concerned and why in the world would you give the poor child more chocolate milk?" I told him I was going to start a bath. As soon as I walked into Trent's room, I almost hurled myself. Piles of noodles sat in various places on his crib; it was on the bumper, all of his stuffed animals and blanket. It was like a murder scene except in place of blood, there was noodles and Doritos. 

I quickly started a bath and got Trent in it. When Mark bathed him, I stripped everything from his crib, washed it off in the sink and then threw it in the washing machine. We got Trent all cleaned up and smelling great. We then all sat on the couch together and cuddled. Suddenly, the little man projectile vomits all over Mark's shirt, pants and my feet; it even managed to shoot into Mark's coffee cup and in between the sections of the couch. Poor Trent, however, got the worst of it...he was covered...yet again. And so the whole cleaning up process began anew. 

Needless to say, the smell of Doritos that I keep getting whiffs of, turns my stomach. I think it is safe to say that I do not want to see a bag of those chips in the near future. Thankfully, Trent has been running around all day like he feels just fine so I think that he doesn't have the flu but rather, it was a bad reaction to the old milk (his diapers also indicate a very upset tummy). I'm keeping my fingers crossed that that is the end of it. 

And I just got another whiff...excuse me...

One Step Closer to Potty Training!

On Saturday morning, Mark went fishing with a buddy of his. As I was doing my hair, Trent came up to me, grabbed the front of his diaper and said, "Poo poo." He says poo poo for both poop and pee, so I didn't know which number he really had to go. I grabbed him and rushed him to the potty. I sat him down, pointed to his junk and told him to push. Low and behold, he stared at his wank and peed!

After he was done, I clapped and praised him and he was so excited. I then gave him some chocolate chips as a reward and he was pleased as punch! I know that by no means is he totally ready to be potty trained but I think that he is on his way!

Hip hip hooray!

On another note, I am only about 15,000 words away from completing my second novel and I am so excited. I cannot believe that I started it last month and am nearly finished with it. The first draft should be completed in the next 3-4 days and then I have to start editing my little heart out! If anyone loves to correct punctuation and grammar and wants to volunteer to help me edit, I'll take it! Feel free to message me if you want to volunteer your services :) Lol.

We also put the crib together yesterday so the nursery is on it's way as well!

Loaning Out Money is a Big No-No!

A few weeks ago, Mark came to me and asked if we could loan a considerable amount of money out to a friend of his because he was going through some hard times and Mark didn't want his refusal to loan him the money, make those times even harder. My heart swelled because Mark's is so big but I had to tell him that I really didn't want to do it. Mark assured me that his friend assured him, the money would be repaid in less than a week, to which I had to roll my eyes.

My dad has always told me that when you loan money out to someone, consider it a gift and be okay with that because you probably won't see that money again. Growing up, I saw my parents loan money out to several people and at the time, those people would cry and call my parents "angels." When they refused to repay the money however, my parents were no longer the angels who saved their asses but evil and greedy for wanting their money returned. I gave Mark various examples of what I saw my parents go through with the loaning out of money and I didn't want to have to deal with any of that.

I really do like this long-time friend of Mark's...he is a nice guy; I know that he means well but he is going through some things right now that made me question whether or not we would ever see the money again. I told Mark that if he loaned this money out we would never see it again and he needs to be okay with that. The amount of money is considerable enough where if we weren't going to get paid back, the friendship would be over. Mark kept telling me that this friend would never do that to him. And so, wanting to support Mark, I told him to go ahead and loan out the money. I, of course, had to tell Mark as he was on his way to drop the money off, "I really don't want to have to say that I told you so." He laughed and said that that wouldn't happen.

Guess what? This was our conversation from last night:

Mark:"Just say it."
Me: Playing dumb, I said, "Say what?"
Mark: "Just say I told you so."
Me: "About what?"
Mark: "About loaning the money because X's phone is disconnected and I can no longer reach him."

Although I didn't say 'I told you so,' I sure as sh!t wanted to! Apparently, Mark has been trying to get in touch with this friend since the day that the money was due to be repaid and shocker...the friend wouldn't answer Mark's calls. Now, his phone is disconnected. We are out the money and the friendship is probably lost because this kid won't be hanging out with Mark any time soon. I know it is killing Mark because we are big savers. We don't like to blow our money on useless crap. We really like to put money away and save it so I know that it is killing him to have just thrown this money away!

I appreciate that Mark is a good guy and wanted to help a buddy out but he would NEVER let me loan so much money out and he would never let me hear the end of it if I did and wasn't repaid. All I can really do is tell my dear husband that he did a good deed and good karma is coming his way.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the kid shows up with the money one day, for Mark's sake. He was just trying to be nice. In the meantime, I think a lesson was learned...do not loan out money! Not to friends and especially not to family. It rarely has a good result. At least I know that now, Mark can't complain to me about the money I will be spending on the upcoming birthday party and presents! He knows he will get the eye and he knows exactly what that eye will mean ;)

Now, I am off to dress Trent and clean the house before Mark gets home from fishing. When he does, we are off to pick up the crib and dresser and start putting together Trent's new room! I can't wait!

Really, Mark, Really?

Last night, around nine, Trent was sleeping, I was writing and Mark was playing on the iPad. Suddenly, he breaks the silence and says, "Sooooooooooo." Eyeing him suspiciously, I say, "Sooooooo, what?" He takes a deep breath in and answers, "I've been doing some research and there are two spots left open for a Cabella's Argentinean dove hunt and it is really cheap."

Now, this gets my attention. This is a hunt that he and my dad have been talking about for years so I knew a little bit about it but I asked him for more details. He precedes to tell me the cost (which is not all that cheap like he wanted me to believe) and what the trip includes. The very, very last detail to be included in his speech is the date. He quickly sneaks it in that the hunt is April 15-22. Now, let me remind you...his big crawfish boil is April 13 and more importantly, I am due to give birth to his child May 7.

Shocked, I stop typing, look over at him and ask if he is serious. He looked so excited so I felt bad for a split second when I had to tell him that he essentially had to dream on. He looked so hurt that it made me rethink telling him no, he couldn't go. I then pictured the following scene: Mark is out of the flipping country, my parents are in California and my water breaks in the middle of the night. I imagined myself having to pack up Trent and driving to the hospital with a two-year-old. What if I had to actually give birth by myself? As these thoughts began to run through my head, I turned to him and said, "Not a chance. You are going to have to go another time." He then proceeded to tell me that the 2014 hunting schedule isn't up so I laughed and told him to wait a year.

I had to shake my head at him! It is just like a man to think that leaving a very pregnant wife so close to her due date in order to go hunting is acceptable! Normally, he is much more thoughtful than that and I am surprised that he would even think to bring it up but that is how he gets when it comes to hunting...he gets so excited that the blood leaves his brain and clearly goes somewhere else.

So, dear husband of mine...I am very sorry to tell you that you will not be leaving the country three weeks before my due date in order to kill some poor little birds. Maybe next year, Quick Draw, maybe next year.

Thanks for the Parenting Advice (said with sarcasm)

Yesterday, Trent was having a HORRIBLE morning. He woke up several times throughout the night and just didn't get enough sleep. He didn't want to listen. He was climbing all over things he knows he's not supposed to. He was just being an all around turd-bucket. I kept threatening him with, "Trent, if you do not behave, you won't be going to gymnastics class today." Yes, I know that was stupid of me because I could tell he had no clue as to what I was talking about. Against my better judgment (I just had a feeling he was going to misbehave), I packed him in the car and drove the five minutes to the gym.

As predicted, he was horrible. He wouldn't listen to the coach or to me and he just wanted to run around the gym like a mad man. I kept threatening him with a time-out and when he continued not to listen, I did make him sit on the side and watch all of the kids having fun. This really pissed him off and threw him into full tantrum mode. He was throwing himself onto the ground and kicking his legs and throwing his arms around. As embarrassing as it was, i refused to give in and let him run around.

Once he calmed down, I let him join the class again and again, he was being a monster. He wanted to get onto the equipment that he is not allowed on and when I would take him off of it, he started to kick me and hit me. I had had it! Pissed, I walked over to our belongings and began to put his shoes on. I was taking this brat home. He really freaked out when he realized that we were leaving. As I was putting his shoes on, I was telling him how bad boys don't get to have fun at the gym and how they have to go home and be in a time-out.

This was the point when the the cute as a button coach, came up to me and calmly said, "He is just testing you. When a toddler has a tantrum you can react in one of two ways. You can ignore him completely, which is my advice, or you can make a big deal about it like you are doing now. He is just testing you to see what he can get away with." I had an instant flashback to Trent's behavior and how he would look at me with that mischievous look in his eye and slowly start to climb on the equipment he knows he's not supposed to be on and I wanted to say to her, "No shit, sweetheart."

Not wanting to be rude, I quietly listened to her and explained how at home, I can easily ignore his tantrums but that is harder to do in public when people are staring at you like 'why aren't you doing anything?' I also said that he was not going to be allowed to hit or kick me so we would be going home. Bless her little heart, the coach continued to offer her parenting advice which although I appreciated, I really was not in the mood for. It is hard taking parenting advice from a 19 year old coach who has no children of her own even if she does have experience with teaching children. All of you parents out there know that kids sometimes act differently with their parents than they do with strangers.  The coach kept at dispensing the advice and I just had to smile politely, and say that we would be going home but that we would see her on Thursday. Poor thing, she is just so adorable and sweet and she meant well but it was kind of hard to sit there and listen to her parenting tips!

So, I took Trent home and he slept for three hours. The little man was just tired! Even though Trent woke up in the middle of last night (I think he's having nightmares), he seems to be in a much better mood today and hopefully, will be better behaved. I am not at all opposed to getting parenting advice. I often call my friends and ask how they would handle a certain situation but for some reason, it just doesn't mean as much coming from a teenager!

Trent's second birthday is right around the corner and I know that these tantrums are only going to get worse. I am still trying to figure out what works best for him but it is a work in progress. I am bound and determined to have a well-behaved child. I want to be that parent who gets complimented on how well behaved her children are but some days, it feels like that will never happen! I know that consistency is key but man, that kid sure knows how to test my patience, the little bugger!

Well, hello there third trimester!

Today, I am twenty seven weeks and therefore, according to the email that I just received from the bump.com, I am officially in my third trimester! Whoop Whoop!

I don't know if it's because I am so busy parenting a 22 month old, but this pregnancy has flown by! While I was pregnant with Trent, I read all of the books and looked for every little symptom, kick, etc. I barely have time to shower these days much less notice all of the little things that I so cherished while I was pregnant with Trent. After he goes to bed however, and I have time to sit down and relax, I do lift my shirt up and just watch my belly move. I love that quiet time. I really love it when I can get my husband to push his ADD aside for two seconds and watch my belly too; his face always lights up when he can feel or see a kick. It usually happens that the baby moves the second he looks away :)

Now that there are only three months left, I need to step it into high gear and get Trent's new room done. I wanted to move him in the new room weeks before the baby comes so that he doesn't think that his new baby brother is taking over his room in addition to his mom. The room is officially painted; the crib and dresser are in so we can pick those up this weekend and I think that I have all of the decor that I need. Once we get the furniture in, I need to put it all together and Trent can move in! This does mean that we have one less guest room for friends and family to stay in but we'll make do!

Overall, I feel pretty good! I am starting to lose a good amount of sleep because I just can't get comfortable but I think it's just God's way of preparing me for the lack of sleep that I will be getting for the next year. I get up to pee at least once, sometimes twice a night and I can't find a comfy position to save my life. My back kills if I try to sleep on it and my sides become numb after lying on them for too long so I am constantly shifting from side to side. Ahh, the price we must pay for bringing a child into this world!

Now, if only Mark and I can agree on a baby name!

Planning a Crawfish Boil

For the eleven years that I've known Mark, he's been talking about throwing a big party and having a crawfish boil. I always kind of rolled my eyes and ignored him but I have officially become tired of his talking about it! Therefore, I've decided to throw the man a big old boil myself for his 35th birthday in April! On a side-note, he tends to talk about things so much that I eventually just give in and tell him to do whatever he keeps talking about or buy whatever he's obsessed with. This happened with his Rzr S...he talked about that little ATV thing since 2007. I finally told him last year to either buy it or stop talking about it. He drove to Dublin the following day and bought one, the goofball! That man has a tendency to wear me down but I'm sure that I do the same thing to him as well!

Back to the boil...

So, Mark's birthday is April 11. Trent's is April 12. Thus, I am now throwing joint birthday party which will consist of a big crawfish broil a mere three weeks before the second little monster is due. I've decided to make it as easy as possible by ordering the cake this year (last year, I thought it would be fun to not only make all of the food for the party but also to make a small cake for Trent and 50 cupcakes...turns out, baking and cooking all day isn't that much fun).

Now, I have no flipping idea as to how to throw a broil. I know that I have to rent several long tables, order live crawfish that have to be overnighted from Louisiana, order bibs and plastic table clothes in addition to a bouncy house for the kids. Mark wants this boil to be authentic. Based on my research, an authentic boil consists of washing the crawfish a certain way, then throwing a crap load of crawfish into a huge pot, along with potatoes, corn and apparently, lots and lots of lemon halves. When all of that is cooked, you throw all of the crap from the pot onto the tables and dig in! I think that I am going to try to find some plain bibs that the kids can decorate or something.

Oh yeah, and Mark wants a keg so I have to add that to the list along with make gift bags for the kiddos who attend and find a cake for Mark and Trent. To top it off, based on my research and the amount of people who will be invited, I have to order 120 pounds of crawfish! Now that is a whole lot of mudbugs (see, I'm learning the lingo and everything)! Mark also wants an invitation that allows for a picture of him and Trent on the front and I cannot believe how hard that has been because he doesn't like any that I've picked out. I'm glad that I've started the planning process so early because I've discovered that Mark is being one picky birthday boy! The only thing that Mark has contributed so far is the making of the guest list and a whole lot of demands. Lol.

This all sounds like a ton of work to me but my boys are worth it. I'm hoping that my mom will come down early to help me and if I can talk the soon-to-be sister in law to come early too (her birthday is the same days as Mark's) if my brother's work schedule allows, I'll be set. If my other brother (his birthday is the same day as Trent's) and his wife come too, I'll be golden, although she is prego so she'll be starting to waddle around like me. It's hard to get them to come to Nevada since they live in California but we'll see!

If anyone has any tips on how to throw a proper broil, feel free to let this clueless girl in because I'm feeling a little lost!

Update on Trent's Ears

Trent had a hearing test today and he has now been off of antibiotics for five days. Thankfully, his hearing has not been affected at all by this insanely long ear infection and there is no fluid in his ears! Even with this news though, the ENT still wanted to schedule surgery! Not really understanding why, Trent has yet another appointment next Wednesday where we are supposed to find out with absolute certainty, if Trent still needs tubes. I thought we would know for sure last week, but everyone keeps scheduling appointments for my little man! I'm thinking that if his ears still look good in 10 days, he won't need to have the surgery. I'll keep you updated!

Trent is in Trouble!

In addition to the incredibly long list of things that I have to get done today, I decided to add grooming our two dogs to the top of that list! They were just too stinky and mangy and they needed a good buzz cut.

I started on the world's ugliest, grumpiest dog. He was pretty good for the first fifteen minutes and I was able to buzz all of his body. When I got to his head and legs, however, he began to snap and snarl at me . Not wanting to get bit, I let him go and started on Blue, the sweetest dog in the world. He let me maneuver, turn and otherwise manhandle the crap out of him as I buzzed his entire body. I think that he even fell asleep at one point. For the majority of the grooming session, Trent sat next to me as he pet Blue and watched Sesame Street. Trent did get up and start to run around by the time I got to Blue's last leg. I couldn't see the little monster but I could hear him in the kitchen. As an aside, I decided to groom in the family room which was a horrible, horrible idea! It was covered in Blue's thick, black hair in no time, which Trent threw all around the family room, laughing hysterically.

As I was working on the last leg, I kept calling Trent's name in an effort to get him in my line of sight but to no avail. I quickly finished the job and hopped up from the ground, covered with black fur and itchy like a whore with crabs (do crabs actually itch? I have no idea, but the analogy sounded good). I ran into the kitchen and there he was...my Trentster, shirtless and sitting in front of the fridge in a pile of Hershey syrup. He looked up at me with the big brown eyes which grew even wider as his expression changed from glee to, "oh, shit...I've been caught...am I in trouble?"

My first reaction was to laugh. He just looked so cute all covered in syrup which he was rubbing on the floor and then licking his chocolate covered hand. He even rubbed it in his hair as if it were hair gel. His pants were drenched, as were his socks and he just looked so happy. After I laughed, I then had to punish him, clean him and then clean the mess and the entire time, I couldn't help but think about how good the chocolate smelled! I wish I knew how to post pics to this blog because I took one with my phone before I cleaned it all up.

So, needless to say, Trent got into some trouble today and I'm sure it won't be the last time. Now, in addition to having to clean the entire house (as I always do on Fridays), I have to clean up a crap load of dog hair, and all I can think about is how much I want a chocolate milkshake....thanks, Trent!

P.S. I did try to finish shaving Buster but being the grumpy old man that he is, he wouldn't let me finish the job so he has the mane of a lion and bushy, hairy legs but his body does look mighty fine!