It's been awhile....

Wow, it's been awhile, huh? I can't believe in my last post, I was pregnant with our third child. Now that little crazy man turned 2. And I turned 30. eek! How did all that happen?? We moved out of the city (insert sad face)....and are about to move even further out of the city. Our big man is halfway done with kindergarten. Our little princess had her first crush. (on her soccer coach, if anyone was wondering!) And the whole time I have been....well, not blogging :) I still use my blogger to follow all the other blogs I love to read. And I have been thinking, maybe, just maybe, about jumping back on the wagon again. Because let's face it: my life is still ca-razy. If anything, the kids are getting crazier as they get older. And, really, I still do need DESERVE that cocktail I speak of so fondly.... What do you think?

what a good little boy

awwwww......reason 3465132456 why I love my son....he told my boyfriend (who is four years older than I am), "Daddy, you're old....mommy's new!." which almost makes up for the fact that he told me recently that he wanted me to go to work and for daddy to stay home, because "you dont make dinner quick enough! Daddy makes it quick. That is why I like daddy and not you." gee, thanks, kid :)

That's right, Elmo is our new babysitter....

.......along with a little mouse I like to call Mickey, and our little Handy guy, Manny. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. Okay, I admit, I do write this post with a little bit of guilt. But OMG how does anyone get anything DONE without it? Like unpacking? Or cooking dinner with two cranky children running rampant around our house? Or sleep? Dear god, I was not meant to wake up at six in the morning. So, I admit, in "desperate" times, I call on our 'nannies'. And they never dissapoint. Always quick to come in and save the day, they can turn a crying child right into a happy, dancing one. Lately, however, we have been relying on them a little more than usual. BabyDaddy broke his collar bone in a night of drinking (....so you're telling me that not only do you get to go out and drink while I stay home with the kiddies, but you come home with an injury that renders you useless in the few things that you do help with? Like trash-taking-out, a few diapers here and there...hmmm, doesn't sound fair!Although I do joke that he is an attention hog. Had major surgery giving birth to baby girl...he got food poisoning the same day. Get knocked up with third child? He breaks a bone. He breaks a tiny little bone, I create an entire skeleton in my belly. Buck up BD, buck up!). Between that, my first trimester awesomeness that is life right now, and him working NONstop this past week, our house is a wreck, I just found ants in our kitchen, and our children now love a furry, little red puppet more than they do us. It's Elmos World...I'm just living in it!

It's been awhile...

hello, prenatal yoga. We've never met before. I've held in my heart, dreams of us spending leisurely hours together, just the two of us, no kids. My heart would race as I pictured the beautiful relationship we would have, the two of us. Oh sure, I would think you came off a bit rough at first, but I knew that by the end of our rendezvous you would be putty in my hands. We would laugh about the days that I could barely reach over and touch my toes, and when my downward-facing dog was less facing and more falling. We would marvel at how wonderful you made me look, how we couldn't even remember the old me.
People would say that I have had that wonderful glow about me since we began meeting. That I seem happier, taller, and more at peace with the world.
Time after time, though, that horrible bitch, Morning Sickness, would walk right into my life and steal you, along with all my dreams, right away from me. She would make me bury you in the back of the DVD shelf, where you would stay, hidden by Baby Einstein and Curious George. She would convince me that we did not belong together. And time after time, I would find myself running to the reliable arms of Ben and Jerry instead....until one afternoon, when I found myself fantasizing about What Could Have Been.
I resolve to make this time different. I want to be the kind of girl that makes you proud. This time when MS rolls around, I will not run and hide under my covers wishing for death. You hear me, MS? I will not have you rule my life for four months. You don't control me and I will not succumb to your mind games. This time the dream is mine, bitch, so back off.

I guess I'll make that a mocktini??

Um wow.
That's right. I now talk like a teenager.
But seriously. Wow. My name is Rachel and it's been almost five months since my last confession. I mean blog. I entered the blogging world with such high hopes. But soon found myself sitting in front of the computer, night after night, staring at the screen trying to find something witty to say, only to sigh, tell myself that I would just do it tomorrow, and finally admit defeat and turn the computer off.
Well no more, I say.
My life is about to officially become CA-RAZY. In a random act that can only be described as an april fool's joke gone very, very bad, I took a pregnancy test. For funsies. And because I just KNEW that it would be positive. Even though I was about, oh, 3 minutes late on my period. And I was right.
So where does that leave me? Knocked up with one crazy, rambunctious almost-three-year-old, and a (thankfully) very happy, very chubby one year old. Oh, but did I mention that I am doing it from the beauty that is our Chitown apartment. That's right, we actually made it back to the windy city. And it's everything that I thought it could be. Well, not everything. I had envisioned nights out with the girlies, a cocktail in one hand, my phone in the other as I drunkenly text the Baby Daddy words of encouragment as he attempts to do what I do everynight...handle two kids by myself. So it looks like some dreams will have to be put on hold.
But not all dreams, my friends. Oh no. This being my last go round on the prego train, I have decided to finally BE that pregnant girl I always wanted to be, always thought I would be...you know the one that is always put together. Not the kind that that has to wear a miss-matched outfit because she broke through her drawstring pants a week before her due date (that's right, that is how I rock out pregnant life). I want to actually excersise and do prenatal yoga. (not just check out the book, look it over once, and then proceed to sit my butt on the couch and watch tv). I want beautiful photos taken of me. of the whole fam. And I will not think about how expensive they are. Oh, and I want an all-round awesome pregnancy. The kind where I only gain wieght in my belly, I never have morning sickness, and people tell me my skin looks glowing.
So you hear that, bloggers? Those, in a nutshell, are my goals for the next eight or so months.

You'd think I'd be a skinny, sober, bitch...

It's amazing, as a parent of two small children, that I even get to eat. Ever. Get up, get this, he spilt that, she needs this, we need more napkins, he's done, she needs more food, I need....umm, to be able to enjoy my food in rest? As in sitting down, not stuffing it down quickly to make sure I get to eat it. And that's when I get to eat my food. Because we all know mommy's food is better than yours. In fact, one of the many sentences my son enjoys saying, is "me eat mommy's food." And how could you ever say no to such an adorable face?? So on that note, I make sure never to eat anything that I wouldn't want him to eat in front of him. Because one m&m can lead to a whole afternoon meltdown.

And the little girl? Ahhh, mommy's dear, sweet little girl who doesn't like to sleep. Ever. (Unless, of course it is in my arms). This beautiful girl, I am sure of it, was born with an internal radar. One that can sense when mommy is either relaxing, or (Gasp) having a cocktail. Because the second I crack open a beer or pour a glass of wine, she is up. And not like the "just put a binky in her mouth and she's fine" kind of way, but more of a 'ready to party' kindof way.

And call me crazy, but it's really just not that much fun drinking when you have a cranky nine month old wiggling around, oh-so-desperately trying to grab your beer bottle. (and for the record, she's obsessed with it). A girl after my own heart, I tell ya.

Hope

As much fun as I have had this year discussing politics (and watching The View to hear them talk about it too!), I am super happy that it is over. As I sit here typing, waiting for the BD to finish putting our son to sleep, I feel the flutter of anticipation, knowing with great excitement that the night ahead of us is filled with hours of tv watching as they start listing the winners upon poll closings. I feel hope, that our nation with have been able to look past color, past the fear that has purposely been shoved down our throats, past the lies that have etched across our tv screens, and will chose a man that will hopefully be able to lead us into a new direction. One that can close this gap that is looming between us. Because I think that most of us can agree that where we have been has not been good. Although it has been this fire that has sparked so much passion that past year (or four!), it is also the reason that I am happy to see today show up. I feel there is no longer a place to discuss politics...people are so hurt and angry and...scared. I have grown tired of hearing people bash the man I voted for today with unresearched lies. My voice has begun rise as I find myself repeating myself to those who have chosen to not listen to not only my view, but ANY VIEW OTHER THAN THIER OWN. I resent stations that only talk about thier candidates onesided. I do not enjoy being phone stalked by McCain's machines. I hate the caution that one must now take when voicing thier choice. I may not agree with your decision, but I would never hurt you for it. I may be saddened to hear your choice win. But I am an American, and I will support ANY kind of change that we elect. And if your man wins instead of mine, I will not judge him so quickly or simply the next four years, because I know that the next man in line has his work cut out for him. It's going to take a lot of work to fix all that has been broken the last eight years. Just know that if my man wins and he is unable to do so either, that it does not deem him a failure or make you in the right. It will not give you the right to criticize him or my choice. True change takes time.