Cuddles & Kegels

It is still surreal that we are doing the baby thing again. 11 days old and she has suckered me into co-sleeping, twice. Which we are super against. She has also been caught sucking her thumb- which we are not a fan of. The kitty has smacked her in the forehead, and Riot is probably going to pet the hair right off her cute little baby head. She has taken a shit in the palm of Girth's hand. Literally. The girl is an absolute charmer. Most girls win hearts by smiles and coos...not our kid. Much like her mother, she found taking a shit to be a bonding experience.
Charlee Maylene is awesome, and content. Her schedule already aligns perfectly with what works for us, and she is just easy. Girth thinks we get easy babies because I am so completely neurotic during pregnancy- so they just come out ready to handle anything. I find myself singing The Doors to her alot, "Hello, I Love You", mostly. We cuddle the shit out of her, I kiss her face fast and relentlessly, saying "kisses, kisses, kisses", over & over...lightly. She half smiles, her eyes flutter and she coos.
I melt.
Through all of this, I have cabin fever. I am ready to walk the bridges in the sunshine, hit a tanning bed, get back behind the bar at work. If only I had realized my life would be complete with mothering, bartending, cuddling and kegeling about $60,000 dollars ago. C'est la Vie...Meanwhile I have to take it easy on my bod, and there is not much I can do by way of exercise 11 days after squeezing out a kid...I kegel. All day long. Doing it right now, actually. My muffin will be able to snap a stick at the end of 6 weeks. So, that is my life right now. Cuddling my two babies, and kegeling.

"I have a daughter"...the most strangest thing I have ever said aloud.

 

Some details.

 182 lbs is obviously my maximum capacity. Weighed that for a month and a half, and it is also what I weighed delivering Riot. I should have known Charlee would not be waiting another two weeks. Being that I could not sleep on Saturday night, I took a Benadryl. Woke up constantly through the night, a little crampy, a little pissy...or so I thought. Bladder control being what it is and all and 9 months pregnant. Girth left the house at 5:30 for work, and the whole house was awake due to me complaining about "pissing" my pants. Finally, 3 pairs of sweatpants later- common sense kicked in. That and as pair number 4 were going on, I sprung a huge leak and trailed through the house getting to the bathroom. As I stood in the bathroom with no pants on, screaming at my mom, her in my bedroom staring at me, a huge gush flew out and hit the floor. We gagged. I called Chris...told him he might want to hurry along.
OH! Also woke up to no water...as the pump got jacked up over night. So, the only water in the house was what was exiting my body. Legs not shaved, muff- NOT in check, greasy hair, gushy mess. In other words, lookin' good.
This of course did not matter, 15 minutes later when my contractions all but crippled me.
4 minutes apart on the way to the hospital.
3 minutes apart on the table, where they examined me and said, "We see hair!".
To which Girth replied, "Hers or the babies" and my mother exclaimed, "SHE'S CROWNING!"
It was not my hair, and the baby was not crowning...but I was 4 centimeters dilated.

This is 9 am.
Epidural time was around 11:30.
The epidural slowed labor, and I could feel absolutely nothing, could not even move my legs, which made me think I was paralyzed...which terrified me. My mother, mother-in law, and Girth hung out with me. At one point I felt pressure on my b-hole...poop. Made Girth look...he yelled...all three of them went to the other side of the room and laughed at me. No one would clean me. "She shits in it, she sits in it". Finally a nurse saved me...and there had been no actual poop. Girth had witnessed a turtle head. Ooops.
At 2:00 they slowed the epidural, so I could feel when to push, at 3:00, I pushed. I pushed three times in 5 minutes, and at 3:06 p.m. I reached down, grabbed her underneath her armpits and pulled her out of my muffin. That was easily the most satisfying, terrifying, self powering, primal act I have ever done. She laid on my chest for the next hour, and we fell in love with her over and over again during every second of it, just like we have and will each moment after.
Thoughts of my 70's muff and no shower went out the window, the pain didn't matter...because after Girth laid his eyes on her, I fell in love with him again. The way he looked at me when I pulled her out of my body, the look on his face when he holds her, and the pride he has when there are four of us on the couch together is intense. It really makes this 6 week no sex business worth it. And while the nurse did tell us, "No intercourse for 6 weeks"...she also added, "at least not in vagina". Of course we had the nurse that says that...
Now all is well, Charlee is a great, content baby, Riot is an amazing big brother, Chris is a doting daddy, and I am feeling good. My only complaint is wearing those huge pads...3 inches thick and wrap from your belly button to your asshole. Tampons are obviously not an option, and having to wear this gigantic thing in just torture.

I swear I can hear it swish like windpants when I walk fast.

 

That about wraps it up.

August 18th, found out we were expecting.

6 weeks...August, 2013

 

 

 

 

Week 12

 

 

 

 

Week 15

 

 

Week 19

 

 

Week 20

 

 

NOVEMBER 2013

 

 

Week 28

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Week 35

 

 

Week 38

 

 

Charlee.
We were surprised to find out about you.
Then we were surprised by your early arrival.

Now we will look forward to every surprise you have in store for us.

 

 

 

You just completed us.

 

 

 

& you made a 4 year old boy shine with pride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our pillar.

We love making beds on the floor. We pull the memory foam off the bed, grab all the big thick comforters, and all the soft blankets and build that bitch up. Topping it off with couch pillows, body pillows, and a snoogle. We put the kid to bed at 8, per usual, and get our cuddle on. Occasionally we let him in on it. The other night, I could not get comfy, and crawled up onto the couch. Woke up at 4 am when my hideous child came stumbling out of his room and crawled onto the floor, because zombies were eating him and he needed daddy. I layed there looking down at them and was hit with way too many emotions. Both asleep and intertwined, Riot's little body wrapped right around daddy's, head on his chest with his nappy, curly, soft hair all draped all over. Girth on his back with one arm wrapped around him...I couldn't take it. I squirmed clumsily off the couch and mashed my big body right onto Girth's other side. Snuggled up into him as tight as I could with his other arm around me. Content. He reminded me of a pillar. A pillar of strength and safety and love. With him in the middle, holding us both, I felt that it completely summed up our lives. I am neurotic, unorganized, always going in 40 different directions...which is not much different than our 4 year old. Somehow though, Girth holds it together, us and himself. The other night putting Riot to bed, I yelled at him for being sassy and talking back, he yelled back at me that I hurt his heart. I cried. He cried. We sat on his bed crying and yelling at each other...Chris came in completely stunned. His big pregnant wife and his small toddler child crying and freaking out. How he remains sane, I will never know. He does though.
He closes his eyes alot. Shakes his head, looks up at the ceiling and mouths words. I have a feeling these may be coping mechanisms...  
Whatever gets him through each day with us though...because it's no easy feat.

Mine.

(5) Realizations.

1. Happiness after children, a happiness that a person with no children and no significant other could possibly know is: Eating a food right out in the open that those other people in your house want nothing to do with. You will never know freedom until you feel that feeling.

2. "Second offspring who gives a shit", is real. I had a journal for Riot...kept from the day I found we were pregnant until he turned a year old, a box with tokens and nostalgia from us and all the people who love him. I have over 50 photo albums of pictures, that all were printed after having him.
Sonograms of Charlee and tid bits of other things are scattered throughout the house...where did the novelty go? 

3. I just made my self fancy french toast. Eggs, french vanilla creamer, cinnamon, powered sugar and syrup. I am fond of saying, "That's what Charlee wants", when I get a craving...However, after she is actually here and asking me for breakfast...I'm going to chuckle as I toss a poptart at her.
"That mom" is completely me.


4. After freaking out, and trying to break Girth's things, he calms me down. He handles  my instability, and my irrational behavior...and he is calm about it. He then waits three days for me to pull an apology out of my asshole, at a completely irrelevant time, spoken very fast without even looking at him.
He accepts it.
He accepts me.
It is not flowers for no reason, buying me expensive things, or giving me my way that makes us what we are.
It is him telling me to go fuck myself. It is him waiting for that apology that takes me 3 days. Doing the dishes (occasionally). Making it rain on me while I twerk. Being a good father. It is tolerating, and not tolerating, all the while being accepting of all of me.


5. Six years later I can still make him belly laugh and blush. Belly laugh after I pretend to snap his neck after sex, blush when I lift and drop my foot between his legs in the chair at the doctors office to unzip my boot hastily. I blush and get giddy when he fake chows at me out of nowhere.


In three more weeks we will introduce another small person into this mix. But, hey- 3's a crowd, 4's a party....right?

 

Four more weeks.

Four more weeks to go.
Four more weeks till' my vag explodes with the cutest chubbiest baby girl full of hair.
Four more weeks till' I can retire my mom bush.
Four more weeks till' we are a family of four.
Four more weeks until my hands stop going numb.
Four more weeks until I can stop worrying about slicing my asshole of while shaving...due to hands going numb at the most inopportune times.
Four more weeks of pissing my pants regularly.
Four more weeks of feeling like my pelvis and muff bone are being tapped with a hammer.
Four more weeks for a Bloody Mary.
Four more weeks till' missionary sex where I don't even have to move is an option.
Four more weeks until I have all the energy to play with my son that we need me to have.
Four more weeks until I can stop feeling guilty about not having it.
Four more weeks until I will never feel a life forming inside of me again.
Four more weeks until my son transitions from only child to big brother.
Four more weeks of feeling every emotion in the entire spectrum about all of the things that will happen at the end of, or will cease to exist at the end of these next four weeks.

EXHAUSTION.

 

Two of them.

What in the flying cardinal cock am I suppose to do with two kids? Panic mode is starting to set it. We took the stroller and car seat out of their boxes last night. Took us an hour to work the frigging things, in which Girth declared it to basically be a transformer. Then I watched him push it through the house and the panic went away. We can do this.
Then he goes to work in the morning.
And I freak out again.
Two kids. Two kids. Two kids. My luxury of napping when a new baby naps will not be available. Because there will be another one strolling through the house. Two babes will be screaming my name. A small one when it wants to be fed, or for pretty much any other reason- only she knows, and the other one more than likely because the cat jacked his ass up again. We went through an entire box of band aids over his Winter vacation. A spec of blood and he loses his mind...certainly won't be a doctor. Then again, he won't be a serial killer either, so that's a plus.
Two kids. Two sets of demands.
I have also decided that I will not be doing tea parties, or fake eating/drinking with Charlee. If she wants me to sit down at a small table to play lunchtime or whatever small girl children do for fun, she better have made me something to eat. A panini maker is effortless...she better throw something in there that I can attempt to actually eat. I will color and draw all day long with her...but I am not sharing my crayons with her. She'll probably learn that the hard way.
How am I suppose to eat food alone?? I'll obviously never bathe alone again. Probably never going to have sex for more than  4 minutes at a time again. It's hard enough getting Girth to put out now. I was SO CLOSE the other day. Nine o'clock at night, in the kitchen with Girth, haven't even been gross in front of him all day long.
I'm really on the verge of getting some.
Instead, I got the BG's.
I trot out of the kitchen, farting the entire way to the bathroom. Huge farts rip every time each foot hit the floor. Got to the bathroom. My asshole all but exploded. He comes to the bathroom, looks at me in my vile condition, one word out of his mouth,
"Nope".
Just like that. I get nothing.