Wednesday, December 30, 2009

...What a difference a year Makes...

It goes without saying that I would like to dress Allessandra's doctor up in overalls and place him on a shelf in my bedroom.-All the while squeezing his cheeks and patting his head. That is just how much I adore him. Perhaps I should just bake him a pie, and stand outside his window in the bushes just to be sure I get to say "Good morning" and "Good Night" to him.
I just love him to death.
For one reason.
He says: I should not let Allessanda just "cry it out". In fact, I should follow my instincts, and only get up with her when I feel like I should.
Holy Mary you realize, internet, how much STRESS this takes off my shoulders?
I should only get up with her, and am ALLOWED to get up with her, when I feel like I need to.
Which means, that those few times when I angrily damned the powers that be, that would point fingers at me calling me a "spoiler" or a "bad mother" and went into her damn room and PICKED HER UP and COMFORTED her..all those times....It was OK....
But more then that, internet, her Doctor encouraged me to continuously prove to her that I will always be there if she really needs me.
Hells to the Yeah!

So after I was done shamelessly covering her Doctor with slobbering kisses (Josh was cool with it, he knows how much I want to put him in a glass case in our basement) he weighed her, measured her, and commented on how gifted  smart she is.
And even though he didn't mention how her friggen head is in the 75% percentile- he did mention one small word that sent my panic into overdrive...he may or may not have mentioned the word "Petite". As in she might be..petite. As in, omg clothes will never fit....I was frantically searching my brain and Josh's face to make sure that he did not just say that she was going to be a midget. But he warned us that it might take a while for her to be sitting in her car seat facing us. Because it may take her a long while to reach 20 pounds.
Sweet Jesus. She is going to be the cutest midget EVER!

All in all a very successful appointment- I got scared shitless about her pulling over bookcases-and was warned about how mobile and independent she is. Should I EVEN MENTION that judging from how precocious she is- her Doctor advised us to begin the whole "time out" adventure as early as 15 months....?
Sweet. So the next time she threatens to burn this Mo Fo to the ground-I can sit her in the "Naughty chair."

All I have to I can still remember stumbling into that doctor's office with a newborn baby that was as foreign to me as if I was carrying a time bomb.
I was bleary eyed, exhausted, sore, and scared out of my mind.
But today- 9 1/2 months later.....everything has changed.

Somehow through all this time, trial and error (mostly)
Josh and I became parents.

Do you think her Doctor would be wigged out if I invited him to move in with us?

I am thinking of putting it in a Christmas card...

Monday, December 28, 2009

I certainly hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas. Allie had an AWESOME first Christmas, one that was full of shiny wrapping paper to eat, and an endless amount of animal crackers that were used for the sole purpose of keeping her entertained. *The child will do just about anything for a delicious cracker*

I was not holding much stock in her actually, you know, doing anything, other then wondering why everyone was sitting on the ground making noise. She enjoyed ripping paper apart- and seemed to really love the amount of toys she received that played music.
She loves her some musical toys.
And I loved the amount of clothes she got. I do love dressing her up in clothes that fit!

It was a nice time. Minus the colds- of course.

We are all starting to feel a bit better, and air is actually passing through my nose today!

Friday, December 25, 2009

....xmas photos...

Christmas Hugs are the best

Even tho I Look as if I have the swine flu, and should basically be wearing a surgical mask....the picture is still awesome, cause you can see how camera shy Allie is...

Thursday, December 24, 2009

"T'was the night before Christmas....."

Christmas Eve was always a big deal in my house. Partially, I think, because the infamous "tomorrow" held so much promise. I think it was more then just new shit, but the coming together as a family for one consecutive amount of time, there was no fighting, no arguing, no disappearing to our own respective parts in the house. In those few hours that we spent nestled among the wrapping paper and shiny bows, we were a family. 

My parents went all out at Christmas to convince all four of us kids, that a fat man in a red suit had, in fact, shoved his fat behind down our chimney and filled our stockings with random trinkets. And while, yes, I did believe for a long time that this was, in fact, true. I feel the need to admit the sheer terror that this notion brought to me, each and every Christmas Eve. And if you are a frequent reader of this blog, you are painfully aware of my "fears" some irrational, yes.  But to me, even as a four year old, the idea that a fat old man was in my living room, scared the living hell out of me.  I mean come on. He sees you when you're sleeping...He knows when you're awake.... that right there, I am sure is responsible for paying for my therapist's BMW.
"Now, Chelsea, did you think that Santa was going to creep into your room and, molest you?"
I pay her.
 Like, actual money.

"I am not real sure- but now that you mention it. Allie is going no where NEAR a mall SANTA."
Sometimes I wonder if my therapist is, you know, actually making the situation worse?

Anyways, I digress.
Christmas Eve. Right.
Let me close my eyes for a second.
I see our tree. Filled to the brim with sparkling ornaments-freshly cleaned by my mother, who was just the type of mom that cleaned the ornaments before she placed them neatly on the tree. (I am the type of Mom that was so lazy- it took a full week to finally put all the ornaments on the tree.)
There was usually a fire crackling, near by-with a cat or two sprawled lengthwise, soaking up its heat.  Maybe my dad had soft Christmas playing in the background- nothing too raucous, maybe instrumental-but he always had the disc laying near by, just in case we showed the slightest hint of interest.
This scene that I am remembering was one that happened as I got older. We would sit around the living room, and my Dad would recite "The Night Before Christmas" with his specs pushed far down on his nose, like Santa himself. He would pause dramatically at the appropriate times, making sure to really stress the breast part, in order to gain a giggle or two from his eager audience.
Christmas eve, I think, was really my favorite part.

 This year is bittersweet. Its our second Christmas without Jonah and my Dad. And, surprisingly it is by no means, easier.  Its just a different type of pain. One, that I find myself pushing down. swallowing back tears, because, its Christmas dammit,and you spent most of the damn year crying, so suck it up cause its Allie's first Christmas and you are her mother so make it special for her, what? do you want to spend the day crying in the shower? No?! OK then, SHUT UP, and wipe the goddamn snot from her child's nose, cause shes EATING IT AGAIN!
Welcome to my train of thought....sometimes, randomly, Ryan Reynolds is naked- and giving me boxes of chocolate. 
I know I am "better" this year. Things are much more focused. A little brighter, maybe.
The last time we were all together was Christmas 2007.
All I wanted that day, was to get back home, cause I was tired, or something.

What I wouldn't give to go back to that day and hold on tight to everyone there, and tell them just HOW MUCH I love them.
Let my stupidity be a lesson.
Hold on to all the moments you have with the people you love.
And grab on tight to them.
Even if they look at you a little strange.

Merry Christmas internet.

"woah...Wait a minute....Santa comes TOMORROW?"

Monday, December 21, 2009

Holiday Cheer!

So this cold is certainly not putting any "pep" into my holiday cheer. Throw in a snow storm, a couple of a long work night and a husband laid out flat on his back in the bathroom at 5AM- sweating- with a 102 fever....and I guess you wouldn't wonder why I would like to curl under some covers and call it a year.

And when I say laid out flat on his back, I mean he passed out. Meaning, it sounded as if Santa himself decided to fall through our bathroom ceiling at 5am. Loudest. Noise. Ever.
Josh told me later that he was just thankful that his pants weren't around his ankles.
Although, I reason that would have been a better story.
Poor Josh.

I swear that man would do anything to get out of going to my holiday work party.

Oh, but did I mention that Allie now has our jolly o'l cold?

Oh I didn't?


Friday, December 18, 2009

There is a mean venomous monster lurking in the back of my throat. And its called a cold. Its been stalking me for a few days now, and I pretty much invited him to take over my entire being by running BAREFOOT through two parking lots last night in -2 degree weather.
I am fully aware of my stupidity- but let me just say- if you were wearing the type of shoes that I shoved my lovely feet into for six hours, you would have hobbled your ass across a frozen pond to avoid the constant pain.
Let me clarify: I have run fourteen miles and my feet were friggen photogenic, compared to two nights in these shoes.
They are bruised, beaten, blistered-and its all from these damn shoes, that I KEEP WEARING, cause frankly they are just fabulous...and I would feel frumpy in any others.

So, just to be clear, I have two busted feet, a cold, and running on 4 hours of sleep thanks to Allie's new: Sleeping is for losers attitude.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

This morning we decided not to venture out for a walk, seeing as tho my snot froze into tiny little icicles and shattered on the ground. And that was me just looking out the window.
So instead of staying trapped in the house all morning we decided to boogy our buns across the parking lot to the warm embrace of our cool mom friend and her son.

Cool mom friends are so rare to find, she lets us come back even tho Allie spends most of her time screaming in her son's face and trying to pluck out his eyeballs. 

And she has all the cool toys. Allie spends most her her time licking all of them, in the hopes that she will totally claim them with her saliva.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Morning Walk in the Cold

No mean looks from old ladies today I tell you! I wrapped her in a down comforter and installed her own personal heater....This picture was taken after I promised to shove her back into my uterus.
Clearly, shes not psyched about the idea.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Past lives

How did I move all they way from my cozy home on Cape Cod- just to run smack dab into an x boyfriend. Like as literally run smack dab INTO him at the mall.
What kind of karma is that?

And as we both fumbled with ridiculous small talk, I half expected his jaw to dislodge from his face, as he quickly realized the small human that I was carrying..was NOT in fact a rental.
But mine.

Then slowly- (cause he was always kinda dumb) It occurred to him, that all those rumors about me being married and shit were....real.
And not only that, but clearly we had consummated the relationship.

Horror! You would have thought that I was carrying around a massive strap on sex swing- instead of my daugheter. The asshole actually asked if she was the reason we got married. And by ask, I mean he stated it. As if that in itself was precisely why I was not ready and available for him.  I mean why not be a true gentleman and just, you know, ask if the condemn broke?
What century are we in? No, seriously.

I had to go home and take a shower- for EVER claiming to find this person remotely attractive. I would like to time travel back to the point where my stupid brain thought OMG hes soooooooooooooo cute, and punch myself directly in the face.

So how was your day?

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Early Morning

Me: "Moooommmma. Ma. Ma. Ma. MaMa.


Saturday, December 12, 2009

9 Months

Dear Allessandra,

Today you are nine months old. I can't believe that that sentence just appeared on the screen. 9 whole months is just enough time for my body to cook a small child that HAS EYE LASHES- and its just enough time to turn you into this being that is hanging in this ..not really a baby, but not really a toddler type limbo. You are too old for me to swaddle and feed a bottle, but not yet walking- by yourself. You are feeding yourself french fries and throwing FULL ON TANTRUMS- but still want your blanket when I put you to sleep.

This type of limbo is exactly what I imagine your adolescence to be- one long winded mood swing.  One with teething rings being whipped at my face. See also: xbox controller directly in the forehead.
I cant wait.
This month has been so full of change, I feel like I have about twenty five plates up in the air at once, and then caught a glimpse of your beautiful face, and just like THAT, I let them all fall crashing to the ground.
Because when its all said and done little munchkin, you are the only one that truly matters.
While I am still in awe at your development- this month your motor skills have slowed to steady pace, while you let your verbal and social skills catch up.
We are filled with BA BAS and DA DAs at endless increments-sometimes at pitches I am sure only Mariah Cary could reach. 
I do my best to socialize you- or whatever that means at this age. While most of the time you spend your "socializing"  grabbing toys from other babies, and grabbing fist full of their hair- while screaming....I still think in some odd way I am doing good. Probably by being that mom, with that kid at playgroup. And hey chickeeda, every play group needs one. How lucky for us that we are the odd ones!
These next couple of months should be very interesting- seeing as though I have given up my full time paycheck in order to spend my days with you. And while  I am certain we are going to get incredibly sick of each other at points and you will be crying and I will be crying and Daddy will come home and not want to find me locked in the closet scratching at invisible sores. Really close and develop an even stronger bond.  Because now you are a grown up 9 month old, you like stuff. This whole staying at home with you wont be nearly as debilitating, awful, challenging as it was when you were colicky! I bet I will go a whole WEEK without wanting to toss you from the balcony. *The Moms who did NOT have a colicky baby are all like "OMFG right now, HOW DARE she write something that MEAN about her OWN flesh and BLOOD!" And the ones that did, well they just nodded their heads and thanked the Good Lord in Heaven for ear plugs and alcohol.*
My favorite part of the day is when I pretend to chase you in the living room-and you, in sheer excitement go completely catatonic and  fall over. Like a cat in a sweater-you just go completely stiff and fall to the ground. I have to rationalize that this is the whole if I can't see you, you can't see me- either that,or you got that whole play dead act down to a science if you were to ever run into a bear.
At 9 months old you have FIVE teeth. 1,2, 3, 4, 5,! All five I am sure were responsible for chomping into your lip, and tongue TWICE in one day.  Which I am sure is a record somewhere for amount of blood shed by teeth in a 24 hour span.
The second time you bit your tongue, you gave me this look that was all like, WTF Teeth Mom?!
Sorry baby girl, teeth are just one of those other things in life that are going to hurt you.
Oh, and PS, when you bite my foot, my face, or my hurts. Can we try to refrain from doing that from now on? I think our time together will go MUCH smoother.

Love you,

"Wait, What is this Santa Crap?"

"Oh, there will be stuff to put in my mouth?"

Friday, December 11, 2009

Dear Lisa,
I am not sure how to begin this letter. I know you probably feel weird with me communicating through this forum. But-this eliminates an awkward exchange-one that will surely be filled with tears and puffing faces, and clearly you realize that  I cant afford to look like that in public. 
I am not sure that I can even say "Goodbye to you" that word is not really in our vocabulary because you don't ever really say goodbye to family. 

I think I knew the moment I met you, that there was just something there that would link us for life. Perhaps it was the tragedy that followed with the Virgina Tech shooting- or maybe it was the comradery that we shared with our dislike of certain characteristics in certain people *wink wink* But before I called Josh my "Husband" and before Allie even existed - there was just you and me.
I remember pulling my chair up next to you, never knowing that you would be solely responsible for carrying me through one of the most difficult times in my life. From the deaths in my family, to the agony of not being able to take Allie home from the hospital right away, you were right there. By my side. 
Lisa, thank you for taking pictures and for holding her when she cries. For knowing every bump and red mark on her body. Thank you for protecting her and loving her these last six months. And thank you for  teaching her how to give kisses.
No matter where we go- she will always know about her home with you.

We love you.


Thursday, December 10, 2009

Things that annoy me

1. The last hour of work

2. People that stand RIGHT OUTSIDE the elevator- like no one could POSSIBLY be GETTING OFF THE ELEVATOR.

3. Waiting

4. Uncertainty

5. Diapers full of poop

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

S n o w

So this blog is just another blog that will feature a OMFG SNOW!!! Post.
But this one will be unlike any of the others.
For one blaring reason.

I. Hate. Snow.

I am in no way shape or form a 'Boston Gal' I have never been to Fenway ( I know! SHOCKING!) I don't drop my "r" s and talk like an asshole- and I don't snuggle down with a cup of hot chocolate and stare lovingly at the mess outside my window. And I know that I should be that type of girl that just knows that this is just a part of living in New England..blah blah blah snow blah.
But I don't care. I belong in warmth and I don't plan on pretending like I don't.
Snow and me are not friends-the ONLY Purpose for snow is to cancel shit. Translation- SCHOOL. or WORK.
And this morning- well this morning, there is just a mess outside. And normally I would save the complaining for something else-like the fact that I actually have to drag my ass to work-but I have to drive in this. And my anxiety just cant deal with anything else.
Last year I was so pregnant- I freaked out EVERY TIME there was snow and ice in any combination on the road. Which is why I pushed Allessandra into Josh's hands this morning, demanding that he drive her to her Nanny's house. Having one less thing to worry about today will totally make me feel a little less stressed. is good to snuggle under a blanket with Baby Bug...

Monday, December 7, 2009

Sunday, December 6, 2009

My little ham

Apple does not fall very far from the tree

Saturday, December 5, 2009

I am a quitter

I realized something pretty humbling about myself today.
I am 100% without a doubt a quitter. 

If its too damn hard- whatever it may be, I usually end up throwing my hands up in defeat -and running as fast as  I can in the opposite direction. I don't do goodbyes very well, and get really uncomfortable when I am forced to participate in any event where an awkward hug, handshake, or meaningless words of encouragement are used.
In equal portion to my quitting habit- I have a really hard time finishing things. 
This goes for books, movies, milk, eggnog, crackers, cereal, pretty much anything that I am quitting I have a hard time finishing.

I remember actually thinking of ways in which I could get up and leave -while trying to birth my child.
As if they were gonna be like "OH! you don't want to be in extraordinary pain? I did not realize that having your bagingo stretched and prodded for thirty hours, is actually NOT comfortable?" Well, sweetheart why didn't you just SPEAK up?!" "OF COURSE YOU CAN LEAVE!!"

 But those assholes made me stay. And my lovely c section scar is forever my reminder of me basically declaring, "Fuck it- I give up."

Which is exactly what I said to myself this afternoon.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

I am not really good at writing posts that are serious- or in any way shape or form make me appear to be vulnerable. Except for that one post where I talked about being afraid of porta potties-or when I told you the first time I met Josh's parents I fell down two flights of stairs, breaking my fall with my face...

But in all seriousness I am not good at writing posts that actually mean something.  Because half the time I am afraid I am going to offend someone. Anyone. And I hate that. Because I need to write about this.

And even though I am pretty sure at any moment a hand is going to come through the computer screen and smack me across the face- I still am going to do this.

I am trying to find my birth father.  And even as I write that- I am experiencing a terrible taste in my mouth- like I am doing something wrong.
I have thought many times of what would I say? Would I be all like,, you don't know me, but  like, your sperm made me....?
He is not my father- *my Dad died last year*  that much I know- so then why the curiosity. I feel sometimes like there is some sort of revenge that is creeping up through my skin -like I want him to see how awesome I am, (no thanks to him) I want to be mean. I want to squint my eyes at him- and make him feel small.

There are times, though, when I think I am being completely and utterly ridiculous . Like I am literally taking a screw driver and wedging open a can of radioactive worms. 
Why would I ever put myself in that position? Especially at this moment in my life where everything is already so unstable?
I like to self sabotage. I am a vindictive evil little being sometimes, and the person I am the most awful to, is me. (And Josh) But mainly me. 
I set these impossible expectations for myself-set standards that no one can live up to-and then when I fail, (Because, dude, failing is, like the ONLY option) I get incredibly depressed and beat myself up about it.
There is a little voice that keeps telling me that finding this man is one of those impossible things that I do. 
Its like training for that marathon, while working full time, being a mother and a wife....I inevitability ended up rolling around on the bathroom floor begging Josh to end my life.
The worst part is that I KNOW these things about me. My mother mentioned that she thought I was trying to find this man, because I am trying to fill that void in my life where my Dad used to be. Because I want a Dad she said. 
The really scary part of all of this, is I cant really say she is wrong.  Same reason, perhaps why I am hyperfocusing on trying to find my two half brothers. Am I subconciously trying to "fix" those empty hollow parts in my heart...with fun "new" people that carry some of my DNA?
Am I really that fucked up?

Going to go ponder that. 
Go easy on the comments here people...I am in the middle of doing that whole "beating myself up thing"


"when you're in my heart...You're in my Family!"

This is a picture that the daughter of a very good friend of ours drew.

It pretty much made my day.

This is the Picture of her "Family"

The awesome people in the purple are "Allie, Chelsea, and Josh (who is bald)


Oh, and she's Three....


Good Morning!
So I have to say, I have been watching a lot of Dr. Oz

 I am not exaggerating  when I say, I pretty much think that I have every some of the diseases that they talk about. But mainly because every single thing they talk about, is how something mundane and small could kill you.  ...
"Do you floss everyday?"

"Cause if you don't, you could have CANCER, or HEART DISEASE ,or DIABETES!"
I learned this morning that my cat could kill me.
(But I have been saying that all along)
Little bastards. 

I think the real problem is that I trust Dr. Oz like he's my God Damn Doctor and not Oprah's bitch.
Its like I trusted Dr. Phil to fix my marriage. But he was all like, "suck it up and try harder" ...and I was all like, but I am lazy-
and luckily for me my husband is just as lazy as me, so problem solved.
Actually- I think agreeing that Dr Phil sucks one the defining moment in our marriage when we realized we were both on the same page.
Anyways. I digress.
Dr Oz. Show is entertaining - but seeing as though for the first time in a month I am pain free. I suppose I do not need anything else to worry about- (At least Health related)
I have much more pressing issues to worry about. Like how I am going to keep our family from living in a cardboard box- Or like, WTF was Tiger Woods thinking?!

If this isn't good enough...then there is really no hope

Remember this picture?? I bet hes feeling like a super Douche right now.

Feeling pretty happy about my marriage right now

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Clark said it better....

"Hey. If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, fore-fleshing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is. Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where's the Tylenol? "

Next week is my last week of work.  I am overjoyed- ambivalent about the whole situation.
I could go into the specifics here, I could throw around angry words, drop the F bomb once or twice (but I think I have reached my quota ...particularly yesterday afternoon) But I am not going to do that.

I am bowing out of this situation with that grace that I have mention. Well let me clarify, I am hoping to do that- we will see how the next week goes.

But basically the whole Mystery,( well part of it) - is that we are about to be very very poor. Its a good transition poor, and really- I missed eating scrambled eggs every night...but this is going to be pretty tough.
As in for xmas presents my family is going to receive a pretty picture that I will draw with a broken crayon I found near a dumpster.
But I am keeping my fingers crossed that better things are about to come. All I can do is focus on the present.

But to those of you out there that are worried- we are fine.
And in true Tim Gunn fashion, we are going to make it work.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Nap Time

I am one hell of a "negative Nancy" these days. This morning I buried my face under fourteen pillows- and pulled the down comforter over my head, willing the clock to rewind so that I could once again just stay in bed. I am not sure where this complete lack of motivation is coming from- but dragging my ass out of bed each morning is becoming less and less awesome.

Perhaps, yeah, I am giving up. Which makes sense since in reality there are a lot of things going on right now that have caused me to quit- throw my hands up in the air and declare "You WIN!"
Most of this - actually, all of it is actually GOOD news (no, guys, I am actually NOT pregnant- but good guess!)

There is a lot of good in store here. But the road I am on is very bumpy and narrow- and frankly one scary you know, I am not confident with uncertainty - I do not relish in not knowing what is going to happen next...hence, my complete lack of motivation.

I think that for the first time in a very long time, my life, our life is finally moving in the right direction. 
I think I have become very comfortable staying stagnant, the predictability that comes along with always having a plan, knowing what comes next, cause, well, you can certainly get pretty comfortable with that.
I am 100% uncomfortable right I guess that means that change is approaching.

soon internet, I will explain everything...soon