71

Friday was my Dad's birthday. If he were still alive he would have been 71.  It's always tough the week surrounding his birthday.  So many memories. 

He was a pretty cool guy.  Really laid back and calm.  My mom is the crazy one. 

My biggest regret is that he didn't get to meet my little ones.  But I love it when I hear Ollie say Tata Tano and points to his picture.

Here's to my Dad. 

The beetus

While I would say overall both pregnancies have been relatively smooth so far it hasn't been with some set backs.  Early on with Ollie we had the possibility from one of the early tests that he might have down syndrome. After much discussion regarding further testing we decided that we didn't need to know for sure and would handle that when we he was born.  The rest of the pregnancy I had high blood pressure.  The rare times I had gone to the doctor before my pregnancy my blood pressure was always in the higher ranges.  My doctor had me on a simple diet of low to no carbs, walking and checking my own blood pressure daily.  So I followed it at as best as I could. Getting closer to the 40 weeks I had to do the stupid 24 hour pee test.  Collecting your pee for 24 hours is quite the chore and then having to store it in the refrigerator well that is just gross.   In the end, everything turned out pretty well.

With this pregnancy,  I had been walking with the ladies at work months before I got pregnant.  And with having Ollie and having him eat well I myself was eating a little better. Definitely more fruits and vegetables than ever before.  So the beginning of the pregnancy went really well.  Blood pressure was great and doc was good with that.  So I started letting things slide.  Ate whatever whenever.  Then it was time for the glucose tests. Failed the 1 hour test. Failed the 3 hour test. After much discussion about the validity of these tests we went to talk to a diabetes specialist who explained gestational diabetes to us and gave us tips on what to eat and how to start monitoring my blood sugar. My numbers an hour after eating were all pretty good.  My fasting number, the first one in the morning was always over 90. It should be under 90.  The combination of the baby measuring 3 weeks ahead and that fasting number constantly over 90 was enough for my doc to put me on insulin.  So now at night I take 10cc's or whatever of insulin.  What stinks is that 3 days prior to taking insulin my fasting number started going below 90 on it's own.  Either my body got used to the new diet or I was eating the right combination for my bedtime snack.  My fasting numbers have been consistently below 90 except 3 times.  And those 3 times I know I was really stressed/emotional about work or something else. 

Taking the insulin hasn't been so bad but I know this isn't something I want to continue doing.  Hopefully, this does go away as soon as the baby is born.  Starting the diabetes diet was probably the hardest thing to do.   I had no idea what to eat the first few days and probably the first week I was constantly hungry and upset.  The information I got from the diabetes doc wasn't necessarily accurate for my situation.  My doc allowed me more fruits and to cut out the bread, rice and pasta as much as I can.  While the diabetes doc limited my fruits and allowed me some bread, rice and pasta. But I'm happy as long as I get good portions of protein. 

So where to go from here....

Last night I felt sorry for myself. I cried a little,  Thought fondly of certain people.  Cussed out other people.

So what is left after that?  Exhaustion.

Pity party over.  Time to do things I need to do and time to get things out of my head....
1) Cleaning and organizing this house.
2) Organizing work stuff as best as I can.
3) Making the male population I see most frequently understand that anything can happen from here on out.  I may not go to work tomorrow or I might still be working past my due date.
4) Ask for more help.  Maybe my mom should come stay with me so she can clean my house. She is very thorough and has more energy than most 30 year olds and she cooks good food.
5) Play more with Ollie, instead of getting upset that he is in my way.
6) Write a blog about why women seem to be marrying older men that have already been married once before.  I think it's a thing now.
7) Clean my desk.
8) Figure out what else is ok to eat with gestational diabetes. Especially sweets...I'm dying for sweet stuff.
9) Change the things I can change and let the other things/people work on themselves.
10) Check out videos on how to raise a newborn.  I'm sure everything will come back to me but it never hurts to have refreshers.

it's a lonely road....

Time has passed since the last blog and in this time I am pregnant again. I have about 8 weeks to go before I get to meet this little guy and start the journey all over again.  This is the time where I feel like nesting and planning and wanting things a certain way. This also seems to be the loneliest of times. 

Some might think it's just all those girly emotions that need to come out but it's just simple compassion and help I seek. Here I am awake at midnight just trying to breathe. Writing this on my phone just so I can get something out. Is it really just the hormones. Probably. Is it too much to ask to be comforted? Probably. 

I often wonder how other people make it look so easy to not care. 

But whatever.....right....there will probably be more nights where I just sit in the dark wondering what is going on telling myself that things will be better.  There will be more times where I just tell myself to get over it because no one else will get over it for me. 

This is probably just a pity party. I should have written this on Facebook where somebody would actually read it so I could get this compassion I am seeking. But this is ok.  It is during the loneliest of times that I realize there is pent up emotion.  Thinking of the things I wish I had makes me think of the things/people I have lost. 

Alright pity party over for now. 

Mosca Muerta

I used to be a nice girl.  I was quiet. Spoke only when spoken to. I trusted and respected my elders.  Listened to authority.  Never spoke my mind.

Well over the years that all changed.  I got sick of being the one that never spoke up and didn't voice my opinions.  Other people were always willing to speak their mind no matter how wrong they were.

It seems now I have a reputation.

I'm on a coworker's little shit list this past week.  She's been questioning every decision I make even though she isn't in the same department I am.  I don't know what her deal is but she's making me angry. She's a 60 year old woman and she's playing this passive aggressive game with me which is getting really old really fast.   My boss knows about it and yesterday he witnessed me and her getting into another round of nonsense.  At one point I told her talking to her was like talking to my mother.  Constant nagging and going in circles without her telling me what is the end problem, question or solution.

This same lady called me a mosca muerte...a dead fly.  I told my mom and she laughed.  It's almost like this lady is calling me a cross between a spoiled brat, hypocrite and prima donna, if any of that makes sense. All I know is that I'm right and she's wrong.

The Dreaded Note

Before Ollie T was born we knew we had to line up a good daycare for him.  We started on the search pretty late and checked out about 5 places before we fell in love with the current daycare he is in now.  We had a good recommendation and instantly we felt like we could trust this place with our kid.  The infant room teachers were absolutely wonderful. They went through a few changes but no matter what we felt confident that Ollie was getting the attention he needed.  Before he turned a year the infant room got a good trio of teachers.  They were all young, easygoing and really helpful in guiding us through the rest of Ollie's first year.  We would ask them questions like what and when to feed Ollie, especially when it came to solids, because we were simply at a loss.  He surely couldn't eat Taco Bell and pizza.

Then Ollie turned the Big 1.  He was moved into the toddler room and we had our choice between a Spanish language focused classroom or a Sign Language focused classroom. We asked that he stay with his friends that would all be coming in from the infant room in the next couple months. So with that request Ollie was sent to the sign language room. We were given a sheet about what to expect and what to bring.  Soon after the notes started.

The regular notes came as expected.  More diapers, more wipes, and accident reports were all the notes we were expecting.  Then we got the "other" notes.

-Please put all warm up containers in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator.  (We forgot twice).
-It is not necessary to write how long to microwave the warm up.
-Peel the orange (cutie) beforehand.
-Do not send utensils.
-Please send bibs.
-Please put jackets on top of his designated container.
-Please bring a teething toy.
-Please do not bring two sippy cups.
-Please stop bringing bottles.

These are all the ones that I could think of but I'm sure there were more.

I was ready to start sending notes back and start a passive aggressive war but I was told to let it go.

Ollie really does have a good teacher she is just a stickler on certain things that drives me batty.  But I guess it's good that he has that strict structure at school since we let him do whatever the hell he wants at home. 

I once had time for lots of stuff.

There used to be time for the little things in life. Now there is no time.  It all get consumed by a little boy.