Over four years into this parenting thing and you start having moments of  “What was life like before having children”?  I have vivid memories of my wild and crazy twenties, but it somehow becomes a blur once your life is dictated by the every move and breath of the little people you are raising.  This is proven in the moments you realize going to work almost feels like a mini-vacation (until 10 minutes into the work day and you immediately recant that statement).  And nevermind having a DP  who likes to nitpick everrrrrything (a reminder to all my posts DP is my Domestic Partner,  although UH and BWAMLBILHA would also work: Unofficial Husband and The Being Who Annoys My Life But I Love Him Anyway, respectively).  However, where I lack he picks up the slack and vice versa, so we have a nice little system going (in my mind, haha.  In his mind he’s proabaly a little less easy-going about that).  

What I need is a real mini-vacation sans children and DP.  I say this, but then given any rare opportunity of alone time and I don’t know how to function.  My day could have been filled with both kids testing every nerve in my body where I dream about the moment their eyelids so much as flutter at the onset of sleepiness, to only find myself tip toeing in their room every hour creepily staring at them because now I miss them.  Get it together Steph, get it together.

I begin to think back to what living alone was like.  Could it really have been that great when now I actually thoroughly enjoy the craziness life with a DP and kids has become? What was so great about it? I know EXACTLY what was so great about it, but first, let me refute the assumed list:

1)     SLEEPING IN. My sleep system is so out of whack that even if I had the opportunity to sleep at any point in the day or night, I can’t. I’ve accepted the fact that I will forever wake up every few hours in the night even when both kids are in a drool-fest slumber.  

2)     UNINTERRUPTED TELEVISION OR READING.  I have such A.D.D. that even if I was able to sit and watch hours worth of mindless TV, I’d simultaneously be browsing social media and/or staring endlessly into the fridge every 30 minutes hoping something new catches my attention.  Thus, even without the interruptions of sibling fighting, in-house dance recitals and freestyle singing put on by my kids, I am, at best, my own distraction.

3)     UNINTERRUPTED BATHROOM TIME (i.e. Showering, toilet business, hair/makeup, etc.). Nope, not this either (although rather enticing). I am pretty much at the point in motherhood where I can extend my shower longer than a rushed 2 minutes because I feel comfortable enough to leave the kids to their own devices whilst I drown my responsibilities in the steamy abyss of my shower.  

 So what would living alone actually do for me? WELL, I could leave the box of tampons on the bathroom counter near the toilet for the entire period (pun intended) that aunt Flo requires them damnit!!!  Whew! I couldn’t wait to get that out!  But my DP is appalled by the very sight. Which I don’t understand coming from a man who is quite enthusiastic about my vagina.  Yet he has some type of extreme aversion to a cardboard box of plastic applicators? I’m not entirely sure that it is disgust that he feels, but maybe more annoyance at the box being out in the open.  Seriously though? Seeing the reappearance of this box every month should bring him absolute JOY! Much like the joy felt as a kid waking up on Christmas morning to Santa’s surprise gift pile, he should see the tampons and think “WOOOO HOOOOOO!!!!!  SHE’S NOT PREGNANT!!” Shouldn’t he be jumping for joy?! Because let’s be honest, 2 kids is more than enough to handle.  Let me also add that I could be the last person alive on a deserted island (is that redundant?) and the first day my period is late I’d immediately think I’m pregnant! Let my strewn tampon boxes on the countertop give you the immediate reassurance you’re internally seeking for each month!!  Although, I do get waves of baby fever with the sight of itty bitty pudgy newborn babies (he no longer comes down with this fever. Ever). Luckily, it hasn’t overshadowed my sense of reality.

It is only natural that he should then feel overcome with joy when this tampon box makes it permanent 6-7 day appearance (yes, a FULL freakin week). Lucky me! Or he’d argue just as sarcastically “lucky him” because that means a weeks’ worth of tampon sightings and that God forsaken box!  And a bathroom trashcan that’s piled high with disposed wrappers and used products that it looks like I had bought out the entire feminine care aisle in Duane Reade (CVS for you non-New Yorkers).

What is it about Tampons that grosses men out? Are their minds THAT imaginative that the tampon creates a trickle effect of thoughts leading from Tampon box immediately to the visual of a blood soaked vagina?  (T.M.I.?) I’d safely say their minds are much less complex and aren’t thinking about things not in their direct line of vision. So then why does this box of tampons irritate him so much? Who cares that it’s on the counter or on top of the toilet? Why do I have to get off the toilet to retrieve a tampon from the sink cabinet (because let’s face it, I NEVER remember to get one beforehand) and potentially risk leakage on places it shouldn’t be? And what if this “leakage” went overlooked, imagine the horror and distress upon DP’S discovery of THAT!!  See? That out in the open box of tampons is actually more beneficial to him than he knows!  But again, the whole male species possessing minimal thought thing prevents him from realizing that whole “blood everywhere” scenario on his own.  

Seeing how easily irritated he becomes over a non-threatening box of tampons on top of the counter, imagine his reaction to any actual mention of period talk!  His whole life in that very moment goes into a frenzy.  A menstruating woman?! It’s like he just discovered this phenomenon that women undergo, and can’t fathom why or how it happens.  Why is it that under any other condition where a person were bleeding, others would run to their aid? Women are bleeding AND hormonally imbalanced every month, why aren’t men running to our aid? My period should warrant a whole weeks worth of coddling and concern (and chocolate, don’t ever forget the chocolate!).

I always like to make a formal household announcement just so we’re all on the same page.  However, before I can get to “period” in “I have my per….” he cuts me off Tourette style status, yelling expletives so that I can immediately stop talking about the “forbidden” (the Tourette’s comment might not have been so p.c., I apologize)

Dear boyfriend, consider my p.s.a. as a direct service to you.  A surprise love-fest on a “Quick!! The kids are eating” whim would leave you potentially traumatized for life if you had to stumble upon the red river on your own! Maybe that should be the tactic I use?  Don’t leave him any signs or say a word, and then in a spur of the moment sexcapade (we have kids, sex is rarely thought out or planned; it’s “oh the baby’s napping; the other one is safely watching the Kindle and we roughly have about 15 minutes until Peppa Pig ends, LET’S DO THIS!) let him discover the state that I’m in and watch the disgust that takes over for not warning him before he decided to face plant into a what is currently a “you don’t want to go there” zone! Soon after he’ll be clearing a spot on the counter just for me to lazily leave my boxes of tampons as I please! Problem solved. I’m a genius.

I’ve wanted to get back at this blog for some time now but found it much easier to internalize my thoughts rather than actually post to my pathetic 1 post blog (can I even call it that?). Well in a random out of the blue conversation with a person from my high school days, I have been prompted to start back up (I guess I’m not the only one who finds myself funny? haha).  And do we give shout outs anymore? Because I’d like to shout out this person; or do you just “@” them? But how do you even do that in a blog? Good God I’m old. 

I’ll keep this blog somewhat narcissistic and make it all about me, but that also entails my kids and domestic partner (no I’m not a lesbian ,but I have a live-in boyfriend of five years with whom I’ve bared children with, and “boyfriend” sounds so juvenile. It’s like I’m in high school and the ‘taboo for my age’ children I’ve birthed make people think the “boyfriend” is not their father; but if I say “my kids father” then they assume we are not together). So “domestic partner” it is! (Holy usage of quotations!!).

Well since my last post over 3 years ago (I’m so consistent), I’ve since had another child and decided to go back to school. There’s a whole mess of craziness in between then and now that I will surely dab into for future posts, but for this entry I want to talk about what’s presently going on in this very moment (figuratively and literally). Figuratively: I’m a hormonal emotional Rollercoaster; literally: I’m lying in bed with a mouth guard and wearing one of my most hideous pairs of underwear.  If that hasn’t immediately made you lose interest in where this blog is going, then allow me to make sense of the two, as they have a direct correlation.

I will title this blog entry, “Bipolar crazy lady”, although I do so with caution because I don’t want the mega feminists to jump down my throat as to assume this is a stereotype men would often give women (I like to consider myself a moderate feminist, but I do occasionally fall under the stereotypes given to women and I will therefore bask in all my pms-y instability).  My DP (domestic partner) left the country this morning to teach a bunch of dance workshops in Switzerland.  And while I am genuinely excited for him, my selfish, anxiety driven self thinks “AGH how am I going to balance the kids being taken care of while I’m at work all weekend… coupled with the 29372 school assignments due all at the same time. Panic sets in.  Not that I haven’t done this a bunch of times before, but after a long stretch of him not traveling, I admit, I was spoiled with our system of functionality. Now it’s like being thrown into the wild and having to fend for myself (I’m a bit dramatic, F.Y.I).

Our oldest child is staying at his aunts for a few days to ease the responsibilities, which is super helpful. But as I put the baby to sleep and stand alone in a scary/eerie quietness, my overly-emotional-self kicks into full gear.  I go from ‘confident super mom’ to "holy crap, I freakin miss my man and daughter’. Like a gut wrenching, what am I gonna do with myself, intense lonely feeling (he’s only gone for 5 days…  remember I did say dramatic). And then I think of the cuddling and conversation I would be having with my 3 year old (she’s very entertaining) and I don’t even have that?! Not to discount my 1 year old at all, but she’s not yet a full-on interactive human.  To which I’m reminded, she better not grow another molar in these five days because now is NOT the time for me to be taking on sleepless nights all by myself!

Normally, I would put off showering and cleaning the mound of dishes until the morning, but without my wingman to balance out morning duties, I’ve reluctantly conquered both tasks tonight. However, the shower was the most glorious thing (doing the dishes, not so much).  Showering without having to give yourself a time limit of 5 minutes or less because the little people that live with you will mutilate the whole house in just a fraction of that time? AMAAAAAZING! I got to stand there long enough to almost forget that the purpose of this shower is to actually wash myself. It was a reflection back to my childhood when I could stand in a hot shower for 20 min before even washing, just because it felt good. It was then I thought "Thank GOD my man and 1 kid are gone! This alone time is immediately everything I need in life”! Then I came back to reality with the realization that I have a 1 yr. old who still refuses to sleep through the night; I better hurry this sh*t up.

After washing from head to toe, I grabbed the razor, and again was reminded why my DP’S absence is so glorious: I don’t need to shave!!!  Woooo hooooooo! I threw that razor so fast over my shoulder with a big "F*ck you!” (No, I didn’t. I placed it back on the holder, but in my mind I was singing, dancing and throwing sh*t). And no I don’t live my life like a Neanderthal, but I figure in trying to maintain a healthy relationship, I can at least uphold the simple things to “keep the sexy” amiss 2 kids and a ridiculously busy schedule. But the DP is gone? Let the unsexy take over!!! Almost as soon as I stepped out of the shower, was I back in the “PUUHHH I MISS MY MAN AND DAUGHTER” phase (there’s that bipolar that the title implicates). Something about the eerie quietness of the house and the just knowing that there’s only one offspring outside the bathroom door, makes the sad loneliness kick in. 

As I made my walk to the bedroom, scattered in my path were some toys and articles of clothing that the DP would relentlessly argue with me about for not putting away.  WELL, I did a round-off back handspring over that sh*t and continued walking!! (Nope, I didn’t. But I did step RIGHT over it all with a smile).  That was me not missing him again.  Aaaaand, cue in bipolar sad face; I’m back to missing him. This led me to wear his sweater to bed, but as I reached for my good panties, I said, “Hell no!”, and threw on my ugly ones! And it’s not because I have my period, it’s just because I am UN-PRESERVING “the sexy” right now while I can.  That moment was me not missing him.  But as I climbed into bed, sure enough, the REAL loneliness swept over. But wait a minute, I’m in the middle of the bed, sprawled out without the jibber jabber of him telling me I’m pushing him off the bed and/or hogging all the blankets. Nope, don’t miss him. But WAIT, I do! Aggghhh! That is, until I come across the final most amazing fact about his absence: I can fart freely in bed all I damn well please!!! What?!!! GOOD RIDDANCE my love, see you in five days!

I have wanted to write a blog for some time now but my procrastination got the best of me.  Having my daughter has inspired me to want to share all of my experiences with fellow mothers; soon-to-be mothers; or anyone interested in reading about the daily chronicles of developmental milestones, poop and spit-up.   This may horrify some, but having children will make talking about poop as casual a matter as discussing what you want to eat for dinner.  Point being, having children is not for the shy, meek, or squeamish person.

I could fill pages of all the cute and priceless baby moments of all the cooing, babbling and laughs.  I could tell you that pregnancy was such a beautiful thing and although uncomfortable, it was a miraculous experience.  I could feed you all the same things you read in books.   In an odd way, it IS all of those things, but I wish these books shared the absolute truth of what it actually feels like going through nine months of pregnancy and (help my life) LABOR!!!  Although, I have come to learn that no matter how well written and descriptive a book is, it will never accurately convey what pregnancy/labor is truly like.  I am here to share my personal experience as seen and felt through my own perspective.  To share all of the gritty details you won’t find in a book or hear from women pretending to maintain some sort of poise and dignity.  I am in no way portraying this journey in a negative light.  It is through the painful experiences, the surprises and messy baby moments that (as cliché as it sounds) make it all worth it; worth sharing. 

How do I even begin to sum up nine months of pregnancy?  Reflecting back on pregnancy, I wish I allowed myself to enjoy it all more than I actually did.  The majority of the time I let my hormones get the best of me.  Whether it be crying because I can’t find matching socks, or crying just because it’s 9pm and seems like the right time of night to cry for no reason? Translation: I was a pregnant hormonal mess!!  I let every nuisance of being pregnant escalate into something more than how I should have let it affect me.  In actuality, I had one of the easiest and smoothest pregnancies!   Yet, the shortness of breath; inability to sleep at night; never being able to lay/rest comfortably; constant anxiety; acid indigestion (or is it heart burn? It’s all the same to me); etc., all consumed me and contributed to my belief that pregnancy was just miserable.   And although all of these symptoms were by no means a walk in the park, I wish I embraced it all a little bit more positively.  Although, does anybody embrace constant kicking in the ribs and never being comfortable with a positive attitude??

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the quiet moments I had to myself that I could relax in a bath or in bed and rub my growing belly.  It never seemed real that there was an actual human being inside of me.  The moment you feel that first flutter you wonder: is it gas? Or is that the baby moving? It felt like there was a pack of butterflies fluttering around inside.  Then one day, you get absolute confirmation that it’s more than just butterflies, but rather, a professional boxer in the form of a fetus.  The first kick, or more like a roll of a hand, is probably more shocking than anything else.  It’s an exciting feeling, but I couldn’t’ help but feel like I was being subjected to a reenactment of the diner scene in the movie “Spaceballs”!  If you do not understand this reference, please Google it immediately!!

I never quite got used to the kicks, jabs, and random body parts that would protrude from my belly and momentarily disfigure my body.  However, it was definitely a cool experience.  What was not so cool? That she would turn into a kung-fu fighter right when I would FINALLY start to fall asleep.  I remember many nights I wouldn’t actually fall asleep until 9 in the morning.  (Or maybe the 9am bedtime was on nights I obsessed over researching EVERY product before adding it to my baby registry.  Note to expectant mothers: go to the actual store for registry items or end up like me, spending countless hours online comparing absorbency levels of burp cloths!! Burp cloths that I never even used for its intended purpose!)   Back to my original point, my daughter was intensely active in utero at all times, more so at night and when I wanted to sleep.  At my doctor’s appointments I would have to get my belly measured multiple times because this child would decide that it was time to play.  My doctor would laugh because she’d get a jab every time she was trying to measure the growth of my belly.  Since birth, Cyndia is still the same; Super active and very strong.  It’s so funny how you can get a sense of your child’s personality while pregnant, and have it be confirmed once they arrive. 

It was a good six months until anyone else was able to see this movement.  I would feel all of the internal acrobats even while my belly was still flat.  It was so exciting to finally be able to have my boyfriend and friends/family see and feel the protruding limbs!  They, too, were equally as frightened. However, I felt like it was taking a lifetime for my belly to pop out!  It was frustrating for many reasons. 

     1) The moment I found out I was pregnant that’s ALL I thought about.  It was like a flashing light blinking “PREGNANT… PREGNANT… PREGNANT” in my brain at all times!  Having waited the standard three months to share our news with everyone, I felt like I was walking on eggshells around those who didn’t know yet!  I felt like I had instantly become a different person but nobody around me could see or understand why just yet.  It became so awkward and nerve-racking to make excuses for why I couldn’t have an alcoholic beverage or even so much as a taste, when normally I’d be throwing it back before even being asked!!  Common excuses: “I’m on medication” (family/friends know I’d suffer through anything before taking a pill to alleviate it); “My stomach is really sensitive to alcohol lately” (my stomach is sensitive to EVERYTHING.  I’m lactose intolerant yet will eat pint after pint of ice cream and snack on slices of American cheese just for fun).  Clearly, my excuses were becoming suspect! 

     2)  I was very aware that I was pregnant (as if the nausea and sore boobs weren’t a reminder every day) but it didn’t seem like reality without a big round belly to coincide with it.  I felt sad as if I was missing out on something.  As the months kept going by, I felt like I was never going to have a true pregnant belly and felt deprived of the full experience.  I was always asking my doctor if it was normal that I wasn’t showing.  Apparently, first time pregnancies usually take a while until the belly pops out. 

     3)  Before you really show, you get what’s called the in between stage, aka looks like you’re bloated from a really big meal.  Only you can’t just fart it all away.   I just felt like a skinny-fat girl; the petite girl with a belly… not cute!  At this point, I REALLY couldn’t’ wait for my belly to pop out!!  I would very dramatically rub my belly in public with my other hand on my lower back indicating to all the wandering eyes, that YES, I am in fact pregnant and not just a little tubby in the midsection!

A big ol’ expanding belly would have eliminated all of these concerns!  But then one day, POP!! Literally, over-night it just sprang out as if to say “Pregnant is what you want?! Well here you go!! Gigantor belly to the rescue!!!”.  I remember laughing with my boyfriend that morning because we couldn’t believe how my belly just grew out of nowhere!  This happened around the five and a half/six month mark.  I was overjoyed to finally look like a pregnant woman! It took a minute to realize that I no longer had to exaggerate my belly rubbing to imply I was pregnant, now people just KNEW!   This was great for that first month of growing! But then it just grows, and grows, and grows, and…   GROWS!  I was now kicking myself in the ass for not enjoying that long period of pregnant no-show!  I told myself if we were blessed to have another child in the future that I would relish in being pregnant with a flat stomach for the first five months.  Only problem is, all subsequent pregnancies become visible almost immediately after conception.  GREAT!!  So expectant mothers, don’t be so eager to want a big pregnant belly because you will not get such a luxury every again!

My attitude comes off as very negative toward big pregnant bellies, and I assure you it is not!  Again, this venting is just an example of how I let my raging emotions/hormones get the best of me.  I wish I enjoyed being a waddling big-bellied preggeration-nation, no really, I do.  When I see other pregnant women, no matter how big or small, I always think it is so beautiful!!  I vow that if I ever have another child, to TRY to look at myself that way.  I’m sure most pregnant women will agree that it’s incredibly hard to view all your swollen body parts and disgusting bodily functions that take over during those nine months, as beautiful! 

Speaking of disgusting bodily functions, I was never aware of the uncontrollable, built up gas that would take over my intestines the ENTIRE first trimester!  On a normal, non-pregnant day, I’m a fairly gassy individual, so for me to relay this information with shock and repugnance, tells you that it was BAD!!!  I’m assuming because there is a human being blocking what was once a clear thruway, the gas has no choice but to sit inside you until the point of explosion.  And explode it does!!  Yikes.  Magazines flaunting sexily dressed pregnant celebrities don’t share this information.  Luckily, after about three months everything went back to normal.

One of the most interesting discoveries during pregnancy was how people treat you once visibly pregnant.  I had assumed that females would be extra kind and cautious because I expected women to just relate to one another and act accordingly.  Shockingly, females would always stare me down as if I was foreign and supernatural in nature.  Men, on the other hand, would constantly reach out to me.  Men of every demographic: young/old; corporate businessmen; street cleaners; truck drivers.  Every where I went, men were so intrigued by pregnancy!  I was always being asked how far along I was; what the sex of my baby was; how was I feeling; how great they thought I look; giving me their constant blessings.  I remember this douche-bag looking corporate guy walked hurriedly past me on the street while talking on his phone and briefcase in hand, literally stopped in his tracks (interrupting his own conversation) just to yell out to me “How far along are you?!.. What’s the sex of the baby?. .Congratulations”.  It was so STRANGE!! These type of encounters with men happened ALL of the time!!

                Riding the subway became more of a convenience rather than a nuisance.  Mostly everyone (more likely men) would give up their seat if I was stuck standing up on a crowded train.  I always felt bad because I never wanted to seem like I expected this kind of treatment or even deserved it.  However, after my style of walking became more of a waddle, I happily accepted these seat offers!  I tried desperately to maintain a sexy walk, but with all that growth and lower pressure, such a simple task became a chore! 

                Speaking of growth, let’s discuss the rapid change in boobage!!  My advice for anyone contemplating getting breast implants is to wait until you have children first.  Not because they’ll be sagging after childbirth, but because you’ll have gone through what I like to call a “boob job trial period”.  During your pregnancy you will experience at least two sizes larger than what you normally are, and after birth when your milk comes in, your boobs will sky-rocket to an unimaginable size!!   Chances are they will go back to your previous size after your milk goes away (or after you stop breastfeeding, if you choose to do so).  At this point, you will already know what your breasts look like at every letter of the alphabet! In fact, that’s how you should order new boobs with the surgeon, “I would like 2^nd trimester, 18wk pregnant boobs”.

                As pleasant as it sounds to have nice big breasts free of charge, the majority of the time you have them is so painful you are unable to relish in these new beauties!  I was practically a negative A before pregnancy so the first trimester was like a battlefield on my chest!!  At the time I was working in a nightclub as a bottle hostess (fancy name for waitress who served bottles of liquor… in scantily clad clothes… I’m not proud).  The venue was always packed with people. As I walked through the crowd holding bottles with lit sparklers in the air, it was certain that bodies would brush against you.  Doesn’t sound so difficult, but try doing this with rapidly growing 1^st trimester boobs!! It felt like someone was stabbing my chest or holding gigantic boulders and bashing them up against me!!

If that’s not reason enough to turn you off from enjoying these new large members, then the change in your nipple color will!!  I can’t speak for darker skinned women who’s nipples are already very dark, but be prepared for a the whole color spectrum to take over your nips!!!  I had read this in one of my pregnancy books, but nothing you read will actually make an impact on you until you experience it for yourself (never mind the fact that the books sugar-coat everything for you).  Everything is described with a “may”: “May experience darkening of the nipples…” “May experience shortness of breath…”.”May experience some discomfort”.  Chances are, you WILL experience all of these things plus more, and be completely shocked and irritated by it all!

                Unfortunately, I did not document everyday and every moment of my pregnancy.  Had I done so, I am sure this already long blog entry would qualify as a full length novel!  I hope this blog left you laughing at the joys and not so joyful moments of being pregnant.  If you are a woman who has children, I am sure you can relate to most of what I written and more!  If you are currently pregnant then you too may already relate to some of these things.  If you are a woman who is not currently pregnant and does not already have children, well then, I may have just scared you off from ever wanting to do so!  And if you are a man reading this, you are probably saying to yourself “Damn I’m happy I am not a woman”.  I say to those men, you are too weak of a gender to even handle an ounce of what it takes to grow a human being inside of you! 

                I don’t think there is any other terribly uncomfortable experience other than pregnancy that I can say I would allow myself to go through again.    Pregnancy was at times painful, uncomfortable, weird, annoying, tiring, and emotional.  Yet it was surreal, beautiful, amazing, loving, cool, unpredictable, rewarding, and many other wonderful things. But simply put, it was incredible!