L'eggo My....Poop?

Just another night in the tub. Opal is gripping an old waffle she found leftover from breakfast. Rather than pry it from her hands and endure a hissy fit, I let her take it in the tub with her. I choose my battles. So the waffle turns soggy of course. I call Chris into the bathroom to watch over the bathing beauties while I try on a pair of jeans. Hand-me-downs from my friend. Someone had given them to her and of course they were too big. She played it off like they weren’t long enough for her long legs, but I know that’s code for, “These are too big for me so I thought you could wear them.” I told her to not even think about it unless they were in the double digits because I haven’t seen a size eight in years. “Oh of course you can wear them. Have you been working out?”  OK fine I’ll take them. So while the children are in the tub I muster up the energy to try on the largest of the three pairs of size eights. I suck it in and hold my breath. Literally. I buttoned them. I couldn’t breathe. But my butt looked pretty dang good in them. That’s when it happened. Chris and I were both admiring my assets in the bathroom mirror when he looks over and sees something on the bathroom floor…”Is that POOP?!!” he says. As I take off the jeans, I casually reassure him, “Oh, no that’s just soggy waffle.” “Well, it looks like poop.” I reassure him that Opal entered the tub with a waffle and that was the remnants of it that Cannon was throwing out of the tub. “That’s a lot of waffle.” I pick up the “waffle” with some toilet paper. “Wait, maybe that IS poop!” I am convinced as another handful of actual POOP splatters ON MY LEG! “Yes! that IS poop,” I confirm. Cannon proceeds to throw the entire poop that he has just deposited in the bathtub OUT of the bathtub. Poor Opal is sitting in the tub with her brother and his poop. So now, I am in my underwear, cleaning poop off the floor and hosing down babies. After I scrub the tub, the floor and the children, I turn to my husband (still in my undies), and ask him if he still thinks this booty is sexy.

The Sweetest Thing

I always wonder if I would have breastfed Cannon longer than the fourteen months that I did had I not been pregnant with Opal.  It was so sweet nursing him to sleep and then one day he went to bed without me and that was that.  I feel like I missed a lot of sweet, tender moments with him during my pregnancy with Opal as she was quite hard on me:)  Though Cannon is very educated when it comes to "Mommy's boobies" he's never tried to nurse me since Opal's been born.  He's been in a "Mommy" mode lately.  Today he told Opal, "No, no, no, Opal, I want to see Mommy!"  So at night when I'm putting Opal to bed in her room, nursing her, Cannon comes in ever so sweetly.  "Hey Mommy.  I want to sit beside you.  I want to snuggle you."  It just melts my heart.  So I told him he could sit on the bed beside me and lay his head on my shoulder. So there we are, Opal in my arms nursing, and Cannon on my shoulder snuggling.  It's the sweetest thing ever.  Now almost nightly he comes in with his blanket while I'm nursing Opal, and says in the sweetest two-year-old voice, "I want to put my head on your shoulder, Mommy."  Well, climb on up here, baby.  And there we sit, the three of us snuggling.  Precious moments that I'll cherish always. 


On a side note, Cannon's booby vocabulary can be quite hilarious.  Cannon knows his full name is Cannon Michael Martin.  Sometimes he refers to himself as "Cannon Michael Tractor." Chris was teasing him today calling him, "Cannon Michael Who" (referencing the Grinch).  So Cannon says, "Cannon Michael WHO. Cannon Michael BOO.  Where's YOUR booby, Mommy? Under your shirt!  Where's your milk, Mommy? Under your shelter!" 

Running with Babies

Some folks are probably annoyed that I refer to my kids as "babies."  Even my two year old tells me he's not a baby, he's a big boy.  Well, big boys pee-pee in the potty, son!  ha.  But they are MY babies and they still require a stroller when we go certain places.  Like running around the neighborhood, which Oh yes I did!  I googled "couch to 5K" and got my post-baby booty in gear.  I've only done it one day so far, but it felt good and yes there were moments as I was pushing 50+ pounds of BABIES uphill that I felt like "supermom"!  And I will Turkey Trott my flabby turkey ass through 5Ks come November 17.  That's only five more weeks to do a nine week program, but hey, I'm supermom.  I might even sip a latte while I'm running and get one of those "3.2" stickers to go on my SUV.  I've recently seen "0.0" stickers on cars which did make me laugh out loud, but that's not gonna be this mama!  See ya at that finish line:)

I make milk.....AND babies, what's YOUR superpower?

I've come to the realization that for the past three and a half years I have been pregnant and/or breastfeeding.  Crazy.  What body? I honestly don't remember what it used to be like.

A meeting at work today somehow ended with birthing stories share time.  I love talking about my babies being born.  Such precious memories.  And it reminds me how I'm sure I don't want to go through it again.  It's also true that there's always going to be someone's birthing story that is more dramatic and traumatic than yours and there's always one that's way easier and more euphoric than yours. 

This is also true of life.  Someone's always fighting a greater battle than me.  And there's someone who's got it easier.  I guess we're all stuck somewhere in the middle.  Life is hard sometimes.  At the end of the day I have these sweet babies to come home to.  I love them more than anything or anyone. 

Ain't No Shame In My Game

This is my kitchen.  And my laundry room.  I think the washer/dryer looks awesome wedged up against the fridge personally.  No kitchen is too small for an island/clothes folding station.  No, your eyes haven't deceived you...there's no dishwasher!  Well, there is, you just can't see me because I'm taking the picture! ha! 

Here's My Bathroom. Like you care.

Confession:  I read blogs in secret that aren't on my bloglist.  Sometimes I read blogs that I might not even necessarily like just so that I can be like, "What?  Really?  Are you seriously showing us your bathroom?"  Now some people might actually care about bathrooms.  I care about mine.  I use it every day.  I mean I have a whole pinterest board dedicated to bathrooms because ONE day I hope to redo my bathroom!

I grew up in a simple brick house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms.  Luxury compared to the washrooms that my parents had growing up.  My mom is sixty-seven years old, the youngest of eight children.  She grew up dirt poor. Not exaggerating. They had an outhouse.  Not lying.  My dad was rich comparitively as they got indoor plumbing when he was only sixteen.  So really, I'm SPOILED!  Now here is a brief bathroom history of my life (HAHA):

• In college I shared one bathroom with six other girls.
• First apartment with roommates shared a bathroom.
• First apartment by myself had my very own bathroom all by myself! yay! For about seven months til CM made his way into my house!
• Our next house was fancy.  A townhome with 3BR/2.5B.  We shared the house with Chris's sister so she got the "master" and I had to share a bathroom with a boy! gross!
• Next house: 3BR/2B for two people.  Again spoiled.
• Next house: 3BR/2B for two people and a baby.  Spoiled brats.
• THIS house:

Here is our master bath:

And here is our guest bathroom:



And here is our bathroom just for our kids:

So we have THREE bathrooms! hahahahaha

Now, if  you are one of those people who actually have three bathrooms, Congratulations!  And if you want to blog about your bathrooms, I say go for it!  I mean I'm doing it!  But don't, DON'T complain about how hard it is to clean your WHIRLPOOL tub!!

You're probably thinking this bathroom isn't THAT bad, because that's what I thought at first glance.  It was one of the first things we had on the to-do list when we bought the house almost two YEARS ago, but we ran out of money and babies took over our lives.  Now, you may think that is some nice classic tile on the walls, but it is not.  It is one solid sheet of glossy plastic faux tile.  That tub is a 1955 orignial though!  I don't know what's going on with the shower walls though because they stop at an awkard height and there is plywood behind it!  Yes, plywood!  What?  I'm really afraid of redoing the bathroom because I'm afraid of all the problems the destruction of it will uncover.  That floortile is linoleum and even the walls are not drywall, but again some sort of shiny plastic material with unrepairable holes drilled all in it.  The medicine cabinet is also original to the house.  There are some nice storage shelves behind the door and it is not too small of a space.  There is NO vent though!  I have made some improvements: It has a shower curtain, a rug, some curtains on the window, a laundry basket, some candles, and a lot of unorganized fashion baskets with crap in them on the open shelves.  I'll post the AFTER picture next year, or maybe the next... Humble enough to be thankful for one working toilet:)

Who dat is? My Baby Daddy.

Yesterday, I braved the doctor's office with two small children.  One well check-up, one sick.  Who knew it could be so complicated to have two children seen at the same time?  I called the day before to set up the appointments and they don't schedule sick visits the day before, but I was able to talk to a nurse and have the two appointments back to back with the same doctor.  Or so I thought.  Apparently I scheduled two appointments with two different doctors.  The receptionist was just as confused as I was and couldn't understand why I would do such a thing.  Well, I didn't mean to and didn't realize I had.  I really wanted to see the NP that I'm used to, but got stuck with a doctor that I don't really know for both appointments.  To make matters even more complicated my babies are on different insurances because I'm an idiot that applied for PeachCare when given the opportunity because I made so LITTLE money last year.  Only Cannon qualified though.  Why one child and not the other?  Who know?  I don't understand it.  It has been the biggest headache and I will never do it again.  The issue this day was that this doctor's office was not listed at his provider. And they tried to charge me for Opal's well visit.  Now I have to call both insurance companies!

ANYWAY...at this point I'm on the verge of a Mommy Meltdown because I'm already trying to contain a toddler in the waiting area while also tending to a ten month old. (Yes, I missed the nine month check up by a bit. oops.)  And the receptionist keeps asking me all these questions as I try to wrangle my children. 

Once we finally get back to see the doctor which I may have seen once before, she is rushing and acting like she doesn't really have time for us and I need to get to the point.  She wants me to tell her what's wrong with Cannon since he's the sick one.  I start by introducing myself and my children.  She doesn't blink.  I go on to explain that Cannon has had a very snotty nose, is starting to cough, and he is hoarse.  She looks at me like none of those things are a big deal at all.  So I go on to say, BUT what I'm really worried about is him having an ear infection because every time he has a runny nose, he's pretty much guaranteed to get an ear infection.  The dr. quickly checks his ears and exclaims that I'm right.  Duh.  I know.  She hasn't been rude this whole time just kind of disinterested. 

Dr. tells me she's going to prescribe an antibiotic.  Which one?  I ask.  Well, I won't know until I review his charts and history.  I go on to tell her his history because I am his mother and I know!  I tell her the reason I ask is because if it is Omnicef (the strongest antibiotic) PeachCare won't pay for it.  Yes, they want everyone to benefit from healthcare and have it for free, but poor kids don't deserve the best medicine.  Only mediocre. 

Not that she's been warm and fuzzy up until this point, but the mood shifts and I become suddenly aware that she is viewing me differently because ONE of my children is on Medicaid.  She then starts nosing around as to WHY one is on the Peachcare and not the other.  I don't know.  It baffles me, too.  Then she looks me square in the eye and asks me in dead seriousness if they have different dads?????  I was taken aback and scoffed a sort of snort and said no as if it were the most absurd thing anyone had said to me all day.  And it was.  I became offended.  Really?  I didn't realize I looked like the type of girl that had two babies in 20 months by two different daddies.   Apparently I do.  Or did she only assume it was a possibility because of my health insurance situation??  Like I was a lower class and I must sleep around.  Good grief!  Who has the time or energy to find a second man to sleep with when you have a baby less than a year old.  I guess if I had started online dating as soon as I had given birth to my firstborn I would have been able to find another prospect.  Better yet, I would have had more time to find my second child's father if I had gone manhunting while I was still pregnant with the first one.  I realize that scenarios like this do happen in real life, but not MY real life.  I guess she thought I wanted to celebrate my son's first birthday by having sex with a new man!  So, yes condescending doctor the reason my children have two different insurance policies is because I have two different baby daddy!!  I mean I know my cleavage was a creeping, but that's because my breastmilk was ready to come out not because I was ready to put out! don't think she even realized what she said was inappropriate! 

Moving on...her etiquette did not improve much.  She was never rude just....ugh!  She whizzed through Opal's check-up.  I mentioned her that she had stopped taking a bottle and would not take a sippy cup though I've bought every kind ever invented.  She told me not to give up because it's important that my baby stay hydrated especially in this heat.  No! I'm just going to let my baby thirst.  So what if she won't take a sippy cup.  Too bad for her!  Really?  Then she proceeded to tell me that I must be doing something right because her growth is in the 99th percentile so she's obviously getting enough to eat and drink.  Well, thank you.  Good to know that my baby is OK despite the fact that I have government assistance.  I realize there are certain things that a doctor is required to say, but I am not an uneducated whore who doesn't know what's best for my children.  Then she sent me home with a box of condoms so I don't get pregnant by yet a third baby daddy!