Tyler's domain

this picture was taken two days before he moved in:
shiny new things sparkle and glow. No scratches from being repeatedly dropped on their faces. No stains.

The last steps:
The first night of putting Tyler to sleep in his new room

The first morning, waking up in his new room

Full of old things new and new things old and rearranged and a chair and a task fresh out of their plastic wrap.

There's no place like home!

Watch me grow! Ch-ch-ch-CHIA!)

On My 12th Week of Pregnancy My Fembryo* Gave to Me...

A bump. A bump. A lovely baby bump.

What you gonna do with all that belly? All that belly inside your leggings? I'm gonna have to find my maternity clothes. Maternity clothes inside my closet :-).

Anyway, thanks to all of you for being my doulas dot com. So awesome that I get to spend this pregnancy with strong, supportive mothers (and fathers) and not alone.

Son. (Dun Dun Dun Dun) You'll be a Brotherrrr. Soon.

The next 6/7 months we're gonna have our last adventures of just the two of us: our last hoorah as partners in pigeon-chasing, sidewalk-kicking crime before the baby comes. The baby. And I can't believe I'm going to do this all over again: have a baby, watch him/her grow, becoming a little girl/boy; A child;

Her/his own person with hands to hold and instruments to recognize and towers to build all her/his own.

I can't believe that two years from now, I will look upon the photos of a face not yet before me with the same pain, longing, and where-did-the-time-go tears that I have right now, looking at these seemingly grown-up pictures of Tyler: My beautiful son, child, little boy, whose hazel eyes once followed my every move.

And now? Every day it is made more clear that I am no longer the center of his world. Instead he has created his own: a magical place where mommies aren't (always) allowed. It is in this world where Tyler will, over time, construct his wings.I cannot believe that once upon a time, I held in my body, something so small. A magic bean I knew would grow, but not this fast. Into a child I knew I would love, but nowhere near this much.

He might as well be a thousand feet high, the way I look at him now. The way I know I will always look at him -- winding like a beanstalk up and into the clouds. Growing up and farther away, my love expanding like the universe around him.

Hi! My Name is Cliché.

That jar was full this morning. Oh, yes I did.

A goodbye note to my size S T-shirt

Yesterday I was working at the bar, wearing the Jaegermeister shirt I always hated. It was my last night there because I can't work there being pregnant of course.
I didn't think I would say this but I'll miss you bright orange ugly shirt.
If you look closely, u can almost make out a smile

Peace out, Gazebo. Thanks for the memories.

Muah

This is Becoming Ridiculous

Yesterday while joking with a friend about how I can't control my crying, I burst into tears.

At first I was fine.

"All I do is cry," I laughed. "Like on my way to the coffee shop? I cried. Because I saw two girls laughing in a car and for some reason, I couldn't contain myself.

""Wow. Really? That must be weird.""Yeah. It is. And you know what else...? " I trailed off. I could feel the tears bubble and boil. I bit my lip, widened my eyes and... "It's just. SO. HARD! You know? Or maybe you don't know because you're a guy. You have no idea! "

And then I was sobbing. And laughing. And then that freaky cry-laugh that becomes almost demonic, hysterical, unstoppable..."Uh... do you want a napkin or something?"

Once again, my trying to make someone laugh had resulted in making myself cry.

Smooth.

I didn't even know it was possible but one CAN run out of tears.

Tyler and I during happier times

This Girl's Gone Three months Pregnant

Wow.

It's your fault

Halloween 08 - on post in Illesheim

Halloween 09Trick or treat on post in KatterbachShit, I love having a kid.
I'm going to have, like, ten more. And Tyler will be, like, "Mommy, no! You have babies all over you!"

...And I'll be like, "your fault, dude. Your fault! You were WAY too cute when you were all dressed up on Halloween, smiling at your dad and me from the stoop of our new house."

Happiness is a small boy in a Rock band

more evidence that my two year old is ten kerpillion times more bad-ass than I’ll ever be:

By the time he’s five I expect him to be able to play a full set of ACDC, and to be able to record it, mix the video, and launch it on YouTube, all by himself. At which point I will become entirely superfluous. Which is probably not as bad as it sounds, but still. Maternal obsolescence, ahoy! ......(Or happiness is a grandma as drummer :o))