The Good The Bad and The Incredibly Pregnant…

When you are waiting on a baby, weeks feel like months, 1 day feel’s like 6 and time jut generally slows down to a most frustrating pace. Having a planned C-Section made it even worse in a way. Yes I had the convenience of a definite day. Easier for working out who would be here with the bot, when family could come and visit, when to have everything done by etc. When you are waiting on your due date, you know there’s a very good chance you won’t go into labor by or before that day. Knowing it’s just an estimate gives you something to casually look forward to without that ticking bomb feeling. While waiting on my section, every day that went by was another tick.

One more month. Tick…

2 more weeks. Tick…

3 more days. Tick, tick, tick…

It added all this pressure and panic. I had a count down.

I wished and hoped with everything I had that I would go into labor on my own. I mean, she was being yanked at 38 weeks and 5 days so already a little early. But I just had this un-explainable need for my body to do what it was supposed to do. There were a few times I thought I was getting what I’d hoped for. I had some days/nights of mild contractions, she dropped low enough for my OB to exclaim that she didn’t realize she wasn’t coming out that way 😛 I had days of pure exhaustion followed by random bursts of energy….It was all very frustrating. My fave symptom was the excruciating tailbone pain. Ugh…It got so bad I almost bought myself a hemorrhoid doughnut to sit on. (I actually rolled up a sweater and arranged in on my glider in the shape of a ring in hopes of some relief haha!)

So even with a countdown, a date and My sister heading our way to keep the bot company for D-Day, I still felt unprepared. The new girls room STILL wasn’t painted, would the bot be ok without me for three days? Did we have everything we needed? Was it all washed? The list was endless. It all feels silly and unimportant now but at the time I was chewing my nails to the quick.

Even with all the panic and pressure, I felt the need to try to assist in evicting her…Nothing serious, just something, anything to make me feel productive. I ate a whole pineapple resulting in one sore as hell mouth,  made a labor cake. Yes I said labor cake. Don’t ask me how it’s supposed to induce labor but it tasted like chocolate sex with fudge frosting…I also tried drinking clove tea, enough squats to make my legs shake, dancing around the house like a round mad woman (my girl loved it ;P) and rocking back and forth while sitting Indian style. None of which did a damn thing. Although something seemed to coax her lower resulting in pelvic and even more tailbone pain. goody! There was one thing that I swore never to tell anyone I actually was dumb enough to try…Ladies and gents, I am going to reveal what it is to be a desperate pregnant woman…

While casually reading posts on babycenter, I came across an interesting and entirely stupid method of induction. I am ashamed to admit I stooped to a level I never thought possible for me. I assure you, I am not mad or loony or mentally unstable in any way. Ok I can’t really, totally, 100% assure you….But I swear I’m not completely crazy… In a moment of less than sane pregnantdom, I tried what is called….The coffee potty…If you know what it is, I know, I can’t believe I did it either…If you don’t however, allow me to explain. A coffee potty is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. You take a bowl, some coffee grounds, add some boiling water and sit…(here’s the post) Yea…Not one of my finer moments. I totally dark roasted my lady bits. For no reason. Nothing happened. Although! My bathroom and my nether regions smelled fantastic for the rest of the day!

So I tried and failed and ended up having her on her scheduled section date. As planned. It actually went really well! But I’ll save that one for later, The new girl definitely deserves her own story 😉 Side note! I hope, like me, that the next time you are enjoying your morning coffee you will think of me and have yourself a little giggle.

Miss K ❤

Sweet Salvation Is In Sight!

The sun is shining! No turning back! Nothin’s gonna stop me now!! 35 weeks people! I can think of a thousand songs to describe my mood right now, but the one that seems to fit the best…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gpn8MANhdLU

Yep that about sums it up! It’s a rather frustrating and equally miserable feeling really. All that weight and baby you gain over the span of 9 months suddenly let’s go. Like someone snipping the cables on a suspension bridge. To put in into perspective, up to 8 lbs of baby, 1-3 lbs of boob, 1-2 placenta, 1-2 uterus, about 3 lbs of amniotic fluid, 4 lbs of blood, 8-10 lbs added fat and protein storage (if you’re lucky) and about 4 lbs of body fluids….All that comes crashing down into your pelvis leaving you with the urge to pee EVEN MORE if that’s even possible, a lovely bone grinding into your lady bits feeling, hip, butt and back pain, followed by more intense braxton hicks! Isn’t pregnant fun?! There are also a few unmentionable things that shall remain unmentionable because I do not want nor feel a need to mention them…

The bonus to this “lightening” (oh so very wrongly named) is less heart burn which I never got in the first place….The ability to eat a regular sized meal, again, never a problem, and no more breathlessness! Well, the only time I feel breathless is when I walk, not jog or run or skip, but walk up the stairs. I thought about installing a sensor and speaker in the bottom step that would play the theme from Rocky for motivation…

One especially weird symptom I’ve been experiencing lately is the dreams. They’re all water! Always water! I’m swimming in an Olympic sized pool, buying bottles of water, rivers over flowing…Last night was especially strange. I dreamt that two other women and I were trying to discover why a certain breed of fish was going extinct. We started at the spawning grounds and made our way up-stream to a pond which opened to a river that lead to the ocean where we ended up in Thailand?! Then we all showered naked in delicious hot, running water then I woke up…Odd. Although possibly symbolic no? I don’t know about the naked shower bit but whatever.

All I can say is thank the lawd I only have a little over three weeks to go! Lazy has turned into lump. As in I am a couch lump. I have no  wish what so ever to leave my soft comfortable couch nest. Socializing with friends now feels about as desirable as a jury duty. I am a complete and total antisocial hermit.  I don’t  want to be, but the thought of leaving my house is anything but pleasant. So not me. The exact opposite in fact. I can’t wait to be me again. I would much rather feel like a dairy cow then a house. BUT! I’m almost there. The clouds are parting and the 23rd awaits 🙂

Miss K ❤

 

WTF?!?!

Today. Today I am disappointed in myself…I’m still pregnant, (34 +4 weeks) still huge, still impossibly lazy and now have added another pregnism to the long and ever growing list of ism’s. Shame.

I finally got around to purchasing the paint for the new girls room, pastel mint and pink, very pretty. As excited as I am to finally get it on the walls, I STILL haven’t even started taping things off yet. UGH! So, thinking it would help to motivate me some, the man boy, bot and yours truly, trundled our way to the mall for some new brushes and rollers. Painting accessories in hand and realizing my stomach was empty and protesting loudly, we decided on subs for lunch. So the boy kept the bot happy and entertained while I waited in the very long line. By this point the empty chasm that had consumed my stomach was now starting to echo earning me some strange looks. One gent even looked like he was ready to bolt probably thinking I was going to eat him. Not gonna lie, I considered it.

After around 20 minutes, I finally rounded the corner and made it to the portion of Plexiglas sneeze guard where you choose your bread. (as long as it was edible and in my hands en route to my mouth, I’d eat it.) While patiently and pleasantly waiting for the less than enthused looking sandwich artist to ask me what type of sub I would like, I glanced down at a sheet of white paper haphazardly taped to the glass. Immediately steam shot out of my ears and I ground my teeth to keep myself from shouting obscenities in the middle of the restaurant. The offensive paper read as follows:

Debit down, accepting cash or credit.

What….Cash or credit. CASH OR CREDIT!?! Well that would be perfectly acceptable had I cash or credit on my person! I did not! After over 20 minuets of standing in line, waiting as patiently as possible while attempting to calm the tiny Jabba the Hutt  inside my stomach, a piece of paper tells me I can’t have my sub because I only have debit?! Well….That was it right there. Hanger took over. I turned my burning glare at my poor husband and told him through clenched teeth that we were leaving.

Like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, I grumbled and stomped down the street managing to somehow contain the majority of my emotions. When I got home however…Being pregnant and having just walked more than 2 feet, I had to pee. I tromped my way to the bathroom and locked myself in. It was at this point I realized what had just transpired. And so, I cried. I sat on the toilet and cried…Sigh…I cried because I was frustratingly angry that I was still starving and not inhaling a sub. I cried because I’m hormonal and wound tight and didn’t know what else to do to release all that tense pent-up energy. But mostly I cried because I was completely and totally ashamed of myself. I mean really…It’s a freakin sandwich! There is seriously something wrong with my pregnant self…Hormones are totally kicking my ass….

The man boy of course found this whole scenario hilarious and chuckled under his breath not exactly improving my mood. He told me (laughing) that I too would find this funny in a few weeks. He was so entertained in fact that after I had dried my offensive and embarrassing tears, he went out and got me that damn sub anyway. Worst part was…I didn’t even enjoy the stupid thing. It tasted like anger and frustration and….Shame…

That is my story for the day. Crazy bitch over and out.

Miss K ❤

Kisseyfer

Today is my brothers 23rd birthday. There are 7 years between us. If anything was going to make me feel old, my baby brother growing chest hair, facial hair, armpit hair and all other manner of hair then turning 23 was it.

From the time he was brought home, he had everyone completely and hopelessly in love with him. With chocolate-brown eyes, the impossibly thick lashes that all boys seem to get, (murrrrr) and the most charming little smile, we were all hooked. He was so freakin cute you just wanted to eat him…seriously, I think I might have  taken a bite or two…To add to his sweet baby cuteness, he was a porker. There are string bean babies, chubby babies, rolly polly’s and then there was my brother. Rolls upon rolls!  He was so fat he couldn’t bend, making him the earliest walker out of the three of us. You simply could not feed the boy enough. He was always hungry.

Fast forward a few years and the cute just didn’t seem to wear off. I remember all of my girlfriends oohing and aahhhing at him like he was a soft squishy little puppy. My little brother was in fact so cute, he could practically get away with murder. If there was trouble to get into, he was getting into it. I’ve already told the phone/saw indecent and the whole setting the carpet on fire bit. See here…There was also the time he took the dog for a walk…By himself…For 3 hours. He was 4. The dog brought him home. Good dog. He also brought my mom’s diamond engagement ring to school to give to his girlfriend. Her mom gave it back. Something about it being a bit too much…Then there was the time he shattered the sliding glass door with a dart. Or when he took part of my CD collection and sold them to his friends for cash. My personal favorite though was when he was 16. The little darling stole my car and launched it into a 6 foot ditch then proceeded to include two loonies in a Birthday card to put toward a down payment for a new one….I still have those loonies. I keep them as a reminder of just how charismatic and suave my little brother can be. He has this way of wrapping people around his boyish fingers. Women are especially helpless to his charms.

For all the shit the kid has caused in his 23 years, he’s made up for it in part by being his sweet endearing self. I think he was about 10 when I had my first experience with boy induced heartbreak. I remember him wrapping his little arms around me and saying: “want me to kill’em?” He was equally protective of our sisters more delicate teenage heart. I believe there were actual threats and possibly fists involved in defending her honor 😛 He may be the baby, but there was no shortage of body-guarding his two older sisters.

I really saw a spark in him when our niece and my daughter were born. The way he goofs around with them, the look on his face as he cradles them in his arms. I’ve gotta say, it’s nice to see there is something that can render him as hopelessly love struck as he left all of us. Chubby legged and smiling 23 years ago…

Happy Birthday Kisseyfer

Miss K ❤

 

The Importance Of Being Beautiful

Being 33 weeks pregnant with another girl, I have come to the realization that there will be a lot of mirror time is my house. Once the wee lass’ reach their teen years, I honestly don’t think the poor man boy will ever see the bathroom again…

A friend of mine posted this article to Facebook: when your mother says she’s fat  It really got me thinking about the importance of self-image. As mothers, how we see ourselves can very well effect how our daughters view their own reflections.

When I was a little girl, I remember thinking my mom was the most beautiful women in the world. With her dark flowing curls, soft perfect skin, classy clicking “lady shoes” and the delicate scent of her Oscar de la Renta perfume, there was never a doubt in my mind. I had the prettiest mom. Not only was she gorgeous! She was smart and funny! She was charismatic, classy and elegant! I wanted to be just like her. I remember putting on her shoes and clacking around the house pretending I was a classy lady too. You can imagine my surprise when, as I got older, I realized my stunning Mother didn’t appreciate her beauty like I did. She would get compliments and brush them off with a wave of her hand and roll of her eyes. I remember the first time I heard the word fat leave her lips. I was terribly confused. My mom wasn’t fat? As the years went by and my ideas and opinions of self-image changed. I still thought my mom was beautiful. She did not. I started reading teen magazines and was exposed to tons of images of long-legged, long-haired, thin and smiling girls and like many other girls my age, thought that was what I was supposed to look like. I wasn’t fat by any means but I thought I was. When did it happen? I don’t know to be perfectly honest. I just remember flipping through pages and pages, watching my favorite shows, staring wide-eyed at movies with pretty girls in pretty clothes and I wanted to look just like them. I look back at pictures of myself and shake my head in disgust. What the hell was I so worried about? Why wasn’t I just out having fun instead of pining over some boy and wondering if I was “his type.” HIS TYPE!! That’s a problem right there! There are so many young girls out there concerned about being who other people want them to be that they forget to be themselves! Somewhere, somehow I figured this out…

Beauty is not defined by what we see in a mirror. Sure we all want to be physically appealing, but that is NOT what real beauty is! Beauty is how we feel, inside. It’s how we carry ourselves, how we treat others, how we SEE others! Beauty is in what we create. A painting, a cake, a sculpture, a life. It’s in our daily lives and it shines through our eyes or a smile or a laugh. It doesn’t mean we have a perfect little nose placed in the perfect location on our perfect face. If we were all perfect…wouldn’t life be boring? If we were all the same…would we want to be different…

Sure there are things about me I wish I could change, are they really that big of a deal? No. Yeah I have a bigger nose, but I have big eyes and lips too so it all balances out. No I’m not “thin.” Do I care? Not really. If I was really dissatisfied with my weight I could always go to the gym and sculpt myself into a more desirable shape. But desirable to who? I like my hips! My thighs may touch at the top and we’re told that’s not attractive but I like em that way! I have a butt, I have boobs! Good god do I ever….My hair is frustratingly neither curly or straight but that just means it can be easily styled both ways 😉 The point I’m trying to make is that there isn’t nearly enough self loving women out there. We need step outside of the box and look at the bigger picture. We are who we are, we can’t change that and why should we want to? We are all beautiful in our own way, not the same way. Embrace different! And while you’re at it, don’t put some much value in looks alone! Sure I tell my daughter how gorgeous she is, but I also tell her that she’s smart and kind and funny. That I love her bravery and her carefree belly laugh.

I’m not sure if there was a hard point to this post. I’m not even sure it makes a whole lot of sense or sends a message or whatever! This is where my mind wandered to today so this is what you get 😛

Ladies, be kind to yourselves. Not only will it do you a world of good, but you never know who’s watching 😉

Miss K ❤

some of the most beautiful gals I know 😉

Ahhhhhh Crap….

If there’s one thing about the early days of motherhood I never thought I could possibly miss it’s breast feeding. It wasn’t that I hated it per say, I just wasn’t in love with the idea. I nursed my daughter simply because I knew it was the best possible thing for her to eat, I was perfectly capable and bonus! FREE! With all the added expense of a new baby, free is always good.

The bot took to breastfeeding like a champ. If she wasn’t so good at it from the get go, I don’t know if I would have continued.(  little shite even gave me a hickey once! ) Whenever I think about it or try to explain, I feel like I don’t do a good enough job of not making myself sound like an arse hole…I guess it just became something I did out of necessity?  There were a few challenges in the early days. Proper latch, (hickey!) Was she getting enough, (I made cream, all good there…) OUCH! (….ouch) Then there was the issue of um…over production. I no longer had breasts, I had faucets. I HAD to wear nursing pads 24-7 and they would be soaked in between feedings. By soaked I mean literally heavy with milk in a span of 3 hours.  Nothing major tho, things settled down and we figured it out. It got much easier as time went on. By 2 1/2 months, the girl was crazy efficient. 5 mins per boob and she got in a full feeding, burped like a champ and was borderline comatose food drunk.

(she’s almost 6 months here but that’s the food drunk face :P)

So, we went from “this sucks” to, “I’m a freakin cow” to wham bam burp! We went strong for about 3 months before settling into just one overnight feeding. I didn’t mean to stop that early, it just sort of happened Once she stopped waking up for her night-cap, I stopped producing and we were done. I didn’t bother me right away. We switched to bottles during the day and went on with our lives. Never looked back. …..Until a good year and a bit later when I saw a woman nursing at the café I frequent. I got this pang of want, no, NEED! I desperately wanted to feed my tiny baby again…Problem being she was anything but tiny anymore…Enter baby fever! We held off for a while, got married (woop woop!!) and found out we were knocked up again while we were home for Christmas. Now as you’ve probably gathered from past posts, I’m not the biggest fan of pregnant. I just want this long, boring and invasive process to be over and done with. I want to meet my new girl and hold her and nurse her and most likely never sleep again. As long as I’m no longer pregnant, I’m totally cool with that…

Speaking of sleep, we come to the reason for this post…I’m sure you’ve heard that pregnancy can induce some pretty whacked out random dreams. Most of mine are baby related. Usually I’m in labor, had her too early, had her and she looks weird or had her and can’t find her. In that one I’m strangely not worried….weird…Well, the other night things went in a slightly different direction. I dreamt that she was here and had been for a week but had never eaten. (this being completely normal in the messed up world of dreams) She started to fuss and do that snorty puppy rooting thing so I yanked up my shirt and popped her on. It felt so incredibly good to finally be nursing a tiny baby again! Fast forward to later that day. I noticed my mam’s were a bit itchy so I checked the gals out. Would anyone care to take a guess what I found? Yup, sprung a leak….sigh. Nothing worthy of a pad or anything, but enough that I saw it. I am insanely nervous I’m going to be even more fountainous then last time. I’m just not going to touch them until she gets here. Might even invest in some caution tape…Or duct tape! That stuff fixes everything right??

Miss K ❤

So Close Yet So Far….

As of Sunday, I’ve managed to make it (begrudgingly) to 32 weeks! Due to the repeat C-Section, the new girl will be yanked in August so 6 and a bit weeks left to go! It doesn’t sound like a long period of time right? Just a hop skip and a jump away! Shrug it off, no biggie, it’ll fly!! ……I tell myself this when I’m feeling particularly pouty about the subject. Until now, the weeks and months have flown. I can hardly believe I’m in my 8th month already! So why, WHY has time slowed to the speed of a geriatric grandfather snail sliming through a puddle of molasses with a pebble strapped to its shell?!?! Every day feels like an eternity. Sometimes I find myself trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be pregnant forever. Logically I know that’s not possible, she IS going to vacate my premises, it just feels that way. 

(this was at 30 weeks, dressed up for the young master Pykes 3rd Birthday)

I’ve been trying to keep myself busy which is no easy feat in Greenwood. There is a serious lack of distraction in this smudge of a town. I actually wish I would get that nesting thing. My house could totally use an obsessive clean…Another lovely side effect (for me at least) of the later stages of pregnant, sheer and utter laziness. I don’t mean like, “I’ll get to it later” kind of lazy, no no. I mean If I’m not leaving my house I don’t get dressed. And not because I’m comfortable in my skivvies, but because it’s a waste of clean clothes which I later have to wash and then fold and then lug up the stairs and put away…My spot on the couch has a permanent ass groove and I make my kid let the dog in and out. I’ve reached new and pitiful levels of low…It’s sad. 

I do have a few things to be thankful for tho. Like, my brief stint of general ache’s and pains seems to have passed for the most part. My hips still throb when I sleep but after being up and mobile for a bit, it seems to ebb away. Braxton hicks are getting stronger but I’m pretty sure I’ve just gotten used to feeling like a boob in a mammogram. With the exception of the odd day here and there, I’ve regained my energy and don’t feel the need to go to bed at the same time as my toddler. Oh! And my personal favorite, I don’t waddle 😀 Not even a little! I didn’t with the bot (girl one) either but figured it was a fluke. Although my OB did say my invading alien appears to be breech like her sister, so maybe that has something to do with it? I’m convinced breech babies are just comfortable to carry. Aside from the odd head wedged under my ribs, her ninja skills, although getting stronger as she runs out of training room, don’t seem to bother me as much as I hear feet stuck in places do. Speaking of feet tho, I’m pretty sure my ninja has at least one dangling down and clawing at my cervix with her toe talons…Super comfy…

(32 weeks)

So, with just under two months left to go, I don’t think I’m doing too bad. We got a new MUCH lighter car seat, the peanut carrier for my stroller came in the mail courtesy of my Mom and we’ve bought one box of newbie diapers and a few sleepers. Doesn’t sound like much but we don’t need a whole lot. Her room still hasn’t even been started but I have plans to get on that next week. The man boy and I have begun telling our girl that her sister is coming soon. She seems to get the general idea and appears happy to be able to actually see her instead of just a ginorma-belly. She’s already scheduled to make her debut a week early but a fat ole’ mama can hope for sooner right? Now if I could just get time to speed up…

Miss K ❤

One To Remember

I have posted before about my love for camping. There’s just nothing like the pop and hiss of a delicious smokey fire, Falling asleep to the night song’s of frogs and distant loons and enjoying your morning coffee, cross-legged on a rock beside the lake…sigh….You can imagine after a long winter and a damp and dreary spring, I was more than ready to get a trip in A.S.A.P! So, the boy took some time off work and we excitedly planned our outdoor vaycay for the Canada Day long weekend.

As the weekend drew nearer we began to notice a trend in the weather…Rain. A lot of it. Generally the weather in Nova Scotia is anything but predictable so we figured as usual, the forecast would be off and stuck to the plan. The man boy headed out to snag our spot and set up shop right after work on Thursday. It rained. The girl and I, excited, eagerly made our way out to join him on Friday afternoon. It rained. Actually, it poured. Like, torrential downpour, sideways, fat soaking drops, monsoon kind of rain…Slightly soggy, we decided it was time to set up the tarp. Well….We did manage to get it up, but the wind just blew some of the rain right up underneath, effectively adding to our already damp mood. We were wet, the chairs were wet, our gear was wet…My girl even had puddles in her boots We were supposed to get up to 20ml but I’m willing to bet we got more. At one point it rained so hard that when I popped into the tent to grab some dry dud’s for the girl, the floor was rippling and rolling like a water-bed. Upon further investigation, half on the tent was sitting on a very deep, very large puddle. We moved it back a bit and dug ourselves a trench. I shit you not, a trench. Worked tho!

It rained off and on all day Saturday and stopped Sunday morning just long enough to partially air out our drenched and sagging tents. As proud as I am of myself for surviving the whole weekend at 8 months pregnant, I’m not gonna lie, at times it was less than pleasant. Ok, it was pretty terrible. But! The girl had fun, not caring that she was wet more than dry and her mother resembled some strange cross-breed of rat and poodle, drenched, wrung out then drenched again. We did have a dry enough night for a fire and ample time for stuffing my face with s’mores and spider dogs and at least the temperatures we pretty good. Would I do it again? Not until I forget what if feels like to be a soggy miserable mess for three days. I have flashbacks when I go to get in the shower. I’m not there yet.

It may not have been the ideal weekend, but it was definitely one to remember…

Miss K ❤

 

UGH!!!

Ok, that’s it, I quit….I don’t wanna do 8 + more weeks! I don’t wanna! I feel fat, I feel tired, I feel lazy, I feel…I feel just plain fed up! I know we all get to this point. I know that we all silently cry during our 85th middle of the night bathroom trip. I know this. Do I care? Not a bit. As every other pregnant woman on the home stretch will agree, no one, NO ONE can possibly be as miserable as you. And when you do find someone who may have a smidgen of an idea of your misery, you find yourself comparing complaints like war vets with battle scars…

“Man these braxton hicks are getting intense.”

“Ya my back is killing me.”

“I get up in the middle of the night to pee.”

“I get up three times in the middle of the night to pee.”

“I have 8 more weeks!”

“Ya? I have 9!!”

Everything was going great until about week 27. That’s when my back started to ache a bit and my hips began to do that super comfy throbbing thing in my sleep…From there the braxton hicks kicked in and ya, I said KICKED in….with a vengeance. Shortly after acquiring  a virtual vice grip around my swollen mid section, I started getting ass pain. Uh huh, yep, ass. As in the general tailbone/butt cheek/side butt area. But that’s not all! I’ve also started getting lightening crotch. Don’t know what that is? Google it. Lots of fun…Another little treat is the sensation of a full to capacity bladder immediately upon standing up from emptying it! How is that even possible?!?!

Aside from the many physical discomforts, the shit has hit the emotional fan. I have been rendered a mopey, blubbery, almost constantly teary eyed mess. The man boy goes to Canadian tire to buy a new camping axe, I cry because I think he’s always trying to find excuses to leave me. My girl tells me she can do something all by herself, I cry because she’s growing up too fast and she’s not going to be my baby for much longer. I’m loading the dishwasher, I cry because we have to many dishes?! Oh! Here’s a good one! I went to take my prenatal vitamin the other night and grabbed the chocolate milk out of the fridge to choke it back with. I gave it a good shake and the lid popped off, chocolate milk everywhere. I sharply yell FU*K!! Man Boy didn’t close it properly. He comes into the kitchen to see what’s up, says he’ll clean it up and not to yell at him. So I start sobbing uncontrollably. Like hiccuping, snot faced, shoulder shaking mess because I’m convinced he thinks I’m an asshole for snapping at him. It took one very understanding and slightly amused husband to talk me down and repeatedly assure me I’m really not a mean and terrible person and everyone does not in fact hate me…Sigh….I can not even begin to describe the level of ridiculousness I have stooped to. Hormones are kicking my ass.

I know that it could be so much worse. There are some ladies who go through 9 months of hell for their squatters. I count myself fortunate that the worst of my issues are some serious and random dog hate, (my poor Jersey :/) and the instinct to snarl and hiss at anyone I deem shifty (which lately includes most classes of stranger, pregnamones don’t discriminate) who comes to close to my person. Ya, even I admit that’s a weird one…I’m really trying to kick back a bit and enjoy the last weeks of just the three of us. Trying. Really trying…All I gotta say is, as of 37 weeks, scheduled C-section or not, I am doing everything in my power to evict this tiny tenant! Crazy bitch, over and out!

Miss K ❤

Home Sweet Home

I have mentioned before that I am the wife of a military man. This means living away from home. Far from home…For me, home is Southern Ontario.

After changing trades, the Man Boy had just over two years of training in Borden, our first move. I didn’t mind. It was only 30 minutes from my hometown and 15 from Barrie. Plenty of shopping, restaurants and not to far from Mississauga where the boy is from. We settled in, Learned what it was like to really live together, and did our best to collect some furniture. (It was our first place, we had virtually nothing!) When it came time for our first real posting, we thought we’d go for an adventure and explore a new Provence. If Borden was any indication, we’d get there, check it out, hunker down for a bit and then move on to the next chapter. Right? Wrong. For some idiotic reason I had it in my head that we’d be gone for a few years tops. Yeah, not so much…We’re now in our 5th year and I’m done. I want to go home….In all honestly, after about a year (maybe less) I had seen all I wanted to see of the east coast and was ready to pack up and go back to where I belonged.

So now, the boy is due for promotion sometime next year, which hopefully means another posting. Please….dear god please…Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot about Nova Scotia that I have come to love. I love the summers! Living in the Annapolis Valley means hot, fragrant, full of fruit summers. There are great little markets, fresh produce and farm fresh eggs seemingly everywhere. It’s pretty cool! The air is cleaner and doesn’t have that factory fart/congested highway/exhaust smell. Not to mention coasters (residents of the east coast) idea’s of traffic make me laugh. Housing is way cheap and there is no lack of spots for camping and other such outdoorsy things. Sounds awesome right? It is….sometimes. I miss convenience. I miss restaurants that don’t deep fry everything and always smell like greasy fish. I want to be able to go to a mall with more than 10 stores that I don’t have to drive almost 2 hours to get to…The ocean is cool and all, but I miss Georgian Bay. I miss Niagara Falls! I miss the zoo and the ex and fall fairs in every township! I miss trips to Toronto and the sounds of horns blasting, the CN tower, 102.1 the edge  and people ignoring me when I walk down the street! ( Adjusting to coaster chumminess took some getting used to ;P) Aside from all the comforts of home one of the biggest comforts I miss is family. I especially hate that my girl doesn’t even know to miss her family! She doesn’t have relationships with her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…I want her to know what it’s like to be surrounded by that much love.

What, you may wonder are my chances of getting back to where my heart is? Slim to none. I basically have to accept the fact that I will never again be able to go home. The term homesick has a whole new meaning to me. Maybe it’s just pregnant talking. Maybe I’m really feeling it knowing that I’m going to have another baby that won’t get to know her family. Maybe it’s the fact that I have 3 nieces and nephews in Ontario, one which I’ve never met and another on the way. Or, maybe I’ve just had enough. I want to go home…

Miss K ❤

View from the CN tower

Georgian Bay sunset

CN tower at night