Sunday was not a good day...

Why, you ask?

Church things.

Life things.

But then you have faces like these:






And this:

And sneakers like these:  'I see your chuck taylors, and I raise you a unicorn.'  Dontcha just die?? Too cute, I say!




And moments like these:


Disclaimer: Not me in the photo (since I was taking it), but that is the one and only Principessa.

Caveat: Technically, the lego tower thingy didn't happen on sunday. But it could have. :)

And you just know. It ain't all that bad.

Sunday was a good day.

Grateful, pp

Re-entry into blogging.

I started blogging because I needed a creative outlet during my maternity hiatus from the working world. I stayed with it - through dry spells and periods of artistic gushes - because I loved the idea of documenting my growing family for posterity.

And I am glad I did.  Because they grow up way too fast.  When I started blogging, my second ( Monkey Boy) was still in my belly.  By my last post, my third (La Principessa) was barely a year old.  Today, I have the six and a half year old Numero Uno, a four and a half year old and an almost two year old. Wow.

So I've decided not to wait until I have something profound to say, because let's face it, that moment hardly ever comes around.  And I'll just celebrate my family, my life and those little moments that are uniquely mine - that I would not trade for anything. Like this, right here. Curl power. Girl power. Pout power. Loves her.

Still got 'it", pp :)

Not to brag but...

... How did we get SO lucky?


Blessed, more like it. I thank God for these three every day. Nevermind the recession, or the fact that I have not slept past 6am for the last six years. Or the stretch marks. Or the crayon and pencil marks on the sofa and walls. The 2am emergency room huddles are a distant memory when I look at these three.


Ah, how do I love thee (Numero Uno, Monkey boy and La Principessa?)

Let me count the ways.

You are all so alike, yet so different. You feed off each other and make the puzzle complete and perfect. The Trifecta.



You blow my mind (and my eardrums at times). Never mind that, though - hearing is overrated.

Thank you Lord, for these ones! I cannot believe that I got to do this thrice!

loving my 3 musketeers, pp

Like a shorn sheep...

...all fragile and skinny, timid - being led back from its (annual?) shearing. Was MonkeyBoy, my petit bebe, sadly, bebe no more. I always feel that baby's first hair cut is almost akin to a 'mini-manhood' ritual. In some cultures they wrap their prepubescent young men in a sheepskin and feed them with a bottle for a day or so (no kidding). The boys in turn communicate with grunts and squeaks just like a baby, right before they circumcise them. I know, ouch. But thank God MB's was just a haircut. But I still got that choked up feeling and I still took pictures and grabbed a fistful of his kinky crop to remember. you know the good old days, when he was not such a 'mini boy'. Sheesh! Mama getting old, yo!

In closing, there is nothing like a pair of sunglasses to get you feeling dapper again. Very 'Nicole Richie', darling...

mother of li'l men, pp

MonkeyBoy turns One!

Where does the time go, eh? That gurgling, tiny, almost translucent looking primate is one and big and into everything and in LIVING COLOR! Truly God has been gracious to me and mine.

We had a rollicking good time, with a traditional 'good old days' birthday party, in the basement, with balloons, cake and kids music blasted from the home stereo system. Sans the kiddie entertainer and face painter, it could have been 1984 again!

I just love to share my ideas and new finds, so here goes:

I am on a 'personalized' kick this year, cos it just makes it all the more personal, right :)? So I did the custom m&ms from mymms.com. I had always wanted to try them and it was the perfect opportunity - not for myself per se( too egocentric), you can pick your own colors and write whatever you want on it and - get this - upload photos to put a face on them!!! Now how cool is that? I know!!!! I am still in awe of this phenomenon - the personalized m&m.

As we all know, your party is only as good as the entertainment. For Numero Uno son's first, I had the most awesome magician/comedian/balloon artist, which was great for the older kids, but hardly registered with my son, as he was all of one. so this year I opted for a 'Gymboree' style person who could coordinate games, songs and activities for all ages. it turns out Ms Ann Goodman of 'Parties for Toddlers' was the best investment ever. I mean, who wants to be organising musical chairs and hosting their own puppet show on their sons birthday, when there are a million and one other things to do? She was so good, I joined in the fun myself! 'The wheels on the bus go..." Whoo hooo!

And there is Amy Tam - yes, almost like the brilliant writer, just swap an 'm' for an 'n' and face painting for writing. She is an artisan - that is the is the only way to describe the creativity this lady possesses and the lightening like speed with which she does all this, without sacrificing the beauty of her work is a plus. With squirming babies and temperamental toddlers, I crown her genius saint of birthday parties and all events. Of course I got my face painted. Like, hello?

So, oh yeah, happy birthday Monkeyboy. Cake is awesome, right?

party animal extraordinaire, pp

If you could walk in my Uggs...

You would know how in awe I am of this wonderful God, our creator, who formed me and my little boys in utero and pronounced us, good to go. And wonderfully and fearfully made. And beautiful and perfect. This God who knows our end from our beginning, who calls us by name knew that the day would come when I would- frustrated, at the end of my pregnancy, start this here blog - and continue the blog after the birth of my little 'monkey boy' and said 'monkey boy' would have eight sharp teeth and smiles and hair for days, plus a truly engaging personality and that he would turn one and he would along with his brother, be my pride and joy.

So thank you God Almighty. And thank you readers of this blog. And Happy One year anniversary to us. And please God let Monkey Boy be walking by his birthday - I don't know why it bugs me that he's not, but it does.

eternally grateful to God, pp

It ain't over till the stuffed sheep 'baas'...

...Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! I have been on a hiatus and I have missed you. but I have been enjoying the holiday season with my little men, and I tell you what, Christmas from their wee perspectives is all too special. The highlight of the season for Monkey Boy was the Christmas tree lights and for Numero Uno son - the plugging in the lights into the socket - which of course, he was forbidden to do, but did with aplomb, anyway.

But both of them just adored the singing (or rather 'baaing') stuffed sheep ornament I bought from Target years ago, for Numero Uno son's first Christmas. You press his stomach and he baas 'We wish you a merry Christmas.' So of course we would sojourn to the tree at least twice a day and listen to him, baaing encore after encore while the boys rocked out. And I do mean MAJOR dancing - until weary, I was able to drag them away. And after it all - get this- Monkey Boy would actually say 'Yay!' and clap his chubby little hands. A standing ovation for the singing sheep! I can take it, the cuteness of those boys. Now those are the memories holidays are made of.

Mazeltov! pp

Life Does Not Stop...

...Just because you are having a bad day. It does not pause to give you a moment to grieve or to be sad - hey, you're lucky to find time to breathe, you know? This is especially true if you are a wife and mom. There are noses to be cleaned, bums to be wiped, (I know, ew) husbands to be loved. Life does not care.

It's raining in your world today? Oh, what a pity - but are you done with that client file I asked you to work on two minutes ago? More important, is it PERFECT? It's raining, you say? Well don the wellies and keep sloshing through. You know Life is. You have killer cramps and a terrible migraine? I'm so sorr- hey, can you emcee at this gala tonight? Nordstrom is having a SALE, girl!

You don't get it, do you? Life 'don't play.' So put on your big girl drawers and deal.

But when I look at those two, I am still grateful that even if my world is rocked, theirs is Rock Solid. Thank you Jesus.

Ever grateful, pp

I don't want no trouble with the Law, Officer...

A picture is worth a thousand words. Ah, how I love these boys...

Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Monkey Boy?

I am. Very much so. In a' pee in my pants', immature kind of way. The phenomenon known as MB crawls at the speed of light now - in this bizarre, sitting yet crawling, crab-like manner. So weird that I am fascinated by it and I sit there staring and bam! he's tugging at my pants leg or hair (depending on if I'm sitting on the floor or standing) or necklace, or earrings (ouch) and with a vise like grip hoisting himself up. Yes, the MB doth stand. On bow legged but sturdy legs. I actually thought he would be one of those babies that didn't crawl and just got up and walked. Cause from like four months, he would try to 'stand' and yell bloody murder if you dared try to sit him down. The result is that we might have a very bow legged little boy (it's true, not just an old wife's tale - a doctor confirmed this, so there) . And/or some kind of gymnast on our hands. He does these perfect little (unintentional) splits when he's been standing for too long and cannot for the life of him figure out how to sit down. Sometimes I just watch him. Just out of pure malice. Gotcha Monkeylicious. That'll teach you to be so freakishly strong. Which he is. His bites (with just two of the most impossibly teeny teeth you have ever seen in your life) actually bring tears to his Daddy's eyes. Numero Uno son is already telling on MB for wresting a lollipop from him. {Side note: How does an eight month old best a three year old in a 'snatch and grab' fight? I say MB won it fair and square. Go ahead then, boy.} I pride myself on training my babies to sleep in their cribs by three/four months of age. With MB? You guessed it - he has broken me. You can hear his bellows through closed doors and without a monitor. And our rooms are not that close. But gosh darn it, how I love that MB. (In spite of all the abuse.) But I am totally scared of the child.

Mr. Egghead/ Ma Pauvre Bebe

My poor monkeyboy. Fell forward in his bumbo seat when he was trying to get a toy and bumped his head on our extremely hard stone kitchen tile. Ouchhhhh! Thankfully, the seat was on the floor, so he didn't have far to fall - but still ouchie! The poor thing was such a trooper and was playing happily again within minutes. His bump was iced and he seemed okay. Fast forward to two days later- the bump just grew 4 times larger and was soft and puffy to the touch. Before you could say 'ER', we were there - with bells on. I was, to put it mildly, in a tizzy. What if he had like a concussion or something? Or internal bleeding? Because obviously, some kind of fluid was collecting under his skin and the fact that he was acting like his normal self scared me even more. Surely that meant he had something 'not good' going on internally, poor baby. But long story short, he had a CT scan and he was fine- not a fracture (thank God) but a contusion which is a bad bruise under the skin. The Doctor casually told me that it would go in two or three weeks. Weeks? Oh no! To be honest, his 'new face' freaked me out a bit. It was oddly misshapen and warped on one side, like he was staring into one of those funny mirrors at the circus. I wanted my MB back! And we traipsed through airports to Paris and back, Mr. Egghead in tow, people looking at him, curious but most too polite to ask, and suddenly it was gone. Poof! Just like that. Now we weren't sure if it was really truly gone or if we had just gotten used to it. But it really has. In three weeks, just like the doctor said. I have my adorable Monkeyboy back! But here's a picture (in the third week, so you can imagine how HUGE it was initially) just so I always remember how grateful I should be for his beautiful monkeyface and more important, health. Viola...

Travails of Travel

There is simply no need attempting to travel these days. None. At. All. The FAA (and cohorts) have squeezed every drop of fun from the whole process with the 3-1-1 rule, the non-priority seating of people with kids, the shoe removal thingy. Everything. It is so bad that even if, by some small miracle, you manage to make it across the ocean to your destination with all your luggage, tots and faculties intact, you are dead tired and cannot leave your hotel room until the day before you are supposed to go home, and then you end up doing the 'drive-by' tour thingy and then head for the airport - ( grumpy, unrested, and thoroughly dissatisfied with your feeble attempt at leisure) - to repeat the same 6-8 hour torture that you went through to get to your 'vacation.' Ha!

My beef today is that the travel agents have joined them. I would think that with the decline in air travel and business for the travel agents, they would be more enthused, more excited over the possibility of their commission. Or maybe just do their job, no? No is right. Here was my experience of recent with our Paris trip bookings. I mean, never mind that we had booked and paid (in full, mind you) for this trip months in advance. A week to the day, I get this EMAIL(because evidently, a phone call would be too much work, you know?)

Hello PP,
C is on vacation this week, and I got a call from the company who is handling your hotel stay in Paris, and they advised me that the R Hotel cannot accommodate your party for the nights that you are booked there.
They did offer an alternative for no extra cost at the V in two rooms there.
Both hotels are on the right bank. The R is in district 1 and the V is in district 2.
They do have another option near the R, called the L, but that would be a difference of 1442 total for 2 rooms.
Please let me know as soon as possible what you wish to do.
If you have any questions, you can either contact myself or my manager, D. Have a great day!

Basically, they had booked my hotel through a third party and were casually informing me that I would have to either stay in a cheaper hotel or pay more for another hotel which could accommodate my party. My 'party' being myself, hubby and 2 kids (7 month and under 3 years old.) Tell me people, should a travel agent not advise (before charging my account) on whether a suite is needed for a certain number of people? To me, this is right up there with letting you know you may need a visa or something. What I loved (read:sarcasm) was the way my regular agent was conveniently not in the office that day, and 2) how they tried to cavalierly make it sound like the problem was mine (and the third party agency's to resolve.) Keep in mind that I had hitherto had no prior contact with said third party agency.

I responded as politely as I could, letting them know they should work it out or refund my money. I got this reply:

I am checking with Travel Bound to see if they will cover the cost of your airline penalties if you indeed cancel. I will know that information shortly.
According to Travel Bound, they cannot accommodate a cot and a crib in their rooms at the R. I understand your frustration with Travel Bound because they should have advised you this at your point of booking in June.
There are other hotel options, but the best one at The L, that is closer to where the V is in district one, is about 1442 more. I was told by Travel Bound they cannot cover the cost difference if you choose this property.

I had an 'are you kidding me?' party all by myself when I got this reply. So another more strongly worded email was sent. This chick must not know I'm an attorney - in fact, bump attorney, try not addled. Cause this was getting to be ridiculous. Here comes the clunker.

Here is an option you may want to consider.
Travel Bound, the tour company who booked your room, told me by law the hotel cannot allow anyone bringing a baby into a room without a cot.
I asked Travel Bound if we took the baby off the reservation, could we have the room, and they said yes.
We could tell Travel Bound and the hotel you are not bringing the baby, and when you check in make sure the baby is not in sight of the front desk.
This is not something we normally recommend, but this is an extreme circumstance, and if you do not mind not having a cot, the best option.
If this makes you uncomfortable, we can look at other hotels that will provide four in a room.
Let me know what you think. Have a good evening!

No she didn't. Yes, she did! In writing! Did this person just ask me to collude with her agency to lie to the hotel and HIDE MY 7 MONTH OLD at check-in? Yes She Did! Where, pray tell, would I hide him? (assuming I was amenable, to her suggested option?) Under my jacket? In my carry on? I think I should have sued them at that point and been well within my rights! I was all set to cancel the trip and sit my butt at home, at least until some modicum of sanity returned to the travel industry, when I got this:

I have great news!
Travel Bound was able to keep you at the R.
They have two connecting rooms for you. It is guaranteed.
You do not have to use the second room, but they have to have it booked for you for no additional fee to you.
They will have the cot in the 2nd room, so you can bring that cot into your room.
At least you will have two bathrooms!!
Let me know if all is well. I think this is the best option. I do have other hotels in the right bank, but this way you can stay where you are.
Have a great day!

Great news, indeed. For her- even though I suspect she has no clue how close she and her agency came to getting the Prada Principal 'smack down.' Now all I have to do is to contend with the other stuff (see first paragraph) - you know, the travails of travel...

exhausted already...pp

Room mates

Growing up in a house with five siblings has left me with an undeniable respect for privacy and personal space. Don't get me wrong - we were never on top of each other or anything like that, but there were long stretches of time where I invariably shared a room and thus could never really do with my space what I wanted. Thus, it has been somewhat of a priority for me, to give our little tenants as much space as they each can handle. But just here and now, with a live-in nanny and a guestroom that might as well have a revolving door, it ain't happening. So Monkeyboy and 'Numero Uno' Son are sharing a room {:-(}, albeit a large one. But with a Thomas the tank toddler bed, sleigh crib, armoire, dresser/changing table and rocking chair, not to mention architecturally impossible angles, it's a bit of a squeeze. I was at a loss as to how to decorate their room without each losing their own little personality. thank God they're both boys. I just went with allocation a side of the room to each, with the rocking chair area being a central spot and making MB's stuff a pale shade of green that wouldn't look too bad with NU's soft blue. And that has worked for us, until I got my latest issue of 'Cookie'. It is filled with so many tidbits about 'shared space' that I have been dreaming about headboards and beanbags. But alas MB is only 6 months old, so i will embrace patience as a virtue. :(

the decorating, pp

Books, Bracelets, Babies and Body Lotion...

'The Mrs. Club'. Is where I'm at right now, quite literally and figuratively. A good friend bought (had autographed and mailed) me a copy of this foray into the hitherto uncharted waters of Nigerian 'chick-lit'. My first reaction was 'Bravo!' and 'A for effort!' for this self published first book, until I saw a grammatical error in the very first paragraph. It put me off for like a week or so. I mean, hello, spell check much? When I did finally give it another try, I was hooked by the conversational, true to life tone of a worldly single Nigerian (or Naija as we like to say) girl, trying to make it in the U.S. A bit exaggerated and intense, but you try developing and sustaining three very different characters in 195 pages and then you can talk! Rough around the edges, yes. The drifting between tenses will make you dizzy for sure. But definitely, definitely, entertaining and you will be holding your sides laughing. Literally. I guess what I am trying to say is, I'm a fan. And I will be buying copies for other Nigerian women or at least letting them know we have embraced a new genre of literature and a new queen of Naija Chick Lit. So, Get it, then, Ekene!

I am chock full of reviews today - all unpaid, I promise, but definitely 'prada tested'. I am all about the unique gifts for my special 'peeps'. Check out these simply gorg 'mommy and me' bracelets I ordered from Lisa for my cousin and her new baby, Kimber. Adorable. And you can customize with just about anything. I did birthstones, baby alphabet blocks and booties. Love, love, love it!

Paspic.com - This one, any busy mom who has ever had to sit immobile under a white cheesecloth with her squirming baby on her lap (I kid you not), all for the sake of a passport photo, will agree is worth its weight in gold. Imagine taking passport photos at home, uploading them and having them sent to you for just $10??? Cannot beat it. They will proof and correct for you as well. I have posted MonkeyBoys, and I will post the finished product from Paspic when they mail them back. Oh, and the $10 (well $10.18 actually) is for THREE Passport photos, INCLUDES postage and you get it within TWO BUSINESS DAYS! I 'PUFFY HEART' THE PEOPLE WHO CAME UP WITH THIS INGENIOUS IDEA!

In my never ending quest to stay fab for less, I turned guinea pig last week. I rubbed the entire left half of my body in Nivea Natural Tone Lotion ($6.99, Target) and the entire right size of my body in Kiehls ($18, Target - 4 sizes smaller than Nivea). No difference. I daresay the left side of my body stayed smoother and more moisturised longer. So Nivea Natural Tone it is, then. :-)

The infinitely smooth, pp

Target Wonderland

Target be rocking, yo. You know the one about the lady who went into Target to buy some gum and then ended up spending $100? No? Oh, you know what? That's just my story. I went into Target to get a few of their ridiculously cheap 'Osh Kosh' shorts for my boys - Numero Uno who is now going down in pant sizes from a size 3T to 2T, and monkeyboy who is growing rapidly, wearing his teensy tiny, but oh so cute 6M shorts. I learned the hard way not to pay $20 for anything for babies under 18 months. So armed with this noble mission and full of purpose and financial prudence, I am bewildered to find myself at the checkout counter with not only a cart full of shorts for both munchkins, a travel comfort set (blanket, pillow and eye mask), cause I just know that soon we will be bringing our own seats,to travel on airplanes, mark my words. Two sets of hot wheels cars (Numero Uno is a car fiend and Aunty Carmen's grandson would appreciate them too, right?), a pair of incredibly cute 4th of July flipflops, for ONE Dollar. Stickers, T shirts (on sale for $1.49) - I Love this Mr, Grumpy one. More T shirts. Toddler underwear with Thomas the Tank on them. Hoping and praying that Numero Uno would respect the train and not pee on them until Mama is able to get proper training pants. Um, nope. But they were just $4 for a pack of 3. Ridiculously cute 'faux crocs' for MB. $6.99. But you know any footwear in that size is insanely adorable. All told for a whopping $60. Before you judge me, I challenge you to try spending just $10 at a Target - let me put a caveat there, a good Target. The crappy oes you just wanna get in and out. Virtually impossible though, in a clean, brightly lit Target such as mine. And when you think of all the things I could have gotten ( organic shopping totes, lotions and potions from the 'Boots' line, those delicious soda- seltzers from Target's 'Archer Farms' and every other yummy or in trend or so affordable-why-not? thing), but didn't, I really am disciplined. No, really.

The ever so prudent pp

Skinny On the Inside

I have been having serious weight issues, more mental than anything else though. I have 'psychoanalysed' myself and I realise that I have been spoiled by the fact that I have never had to actually struggle with weight loss, fat, or any of that for that matter. In the good old days, I would basically just cut out bread or rice for two weeks and 'Bam!', enter 'the hotness'.
But after monkeyboy, um, not so much. I have basically only lost 25 pounds in two months. The other problem is well, I gained 43 lbs instead of the 25 I had gained with Numero Uno. Now who's bright idea was that one? I kinda got cocky I think, and now I am paying for it. In spades.

The weird thing is that I still feel skinny on the inside. Like when I tried to fit into my black velvet, soft like butter, size 4 'alice & olivia' skinny pants, I was momentarily confused when they wouldn't go past my thighs. Sigh. I don't get it. I have been kicked out of the 'skinny bitches club' and I stand here, nose smushed on window pane, wistfully looking in. "I wanna play too!" Yes, I do have the flair for the dramatic, don't I? But then I look down at monkeyboy, who is almost always inevitably cradled in my arms, and you know what? It's worth it. And you can take that to the bank.
xoxo,
the matronly prada principal

Butt Cream and Return of the Nanny

I was on here extolling the virtues of the crabtree and evelyn baby cream in my last post, right? So I have been slathering Monkeyboy in it, literally like from head to toe. and his rash just seemed to miraculously dry up and disappear. Well, I decided to actually read the packaging and I find to my dismay that the instructions say to apply as needed to help prevent' diaper rash'. Yes people. Yours truly has been smothering her baby in 'butt cream', fine and shishi poopoo as it may be. I find this hysterically funny and I'm like, no one wonder it worked so fabulously. MB's face had no clue what hit it! lol. Hey, whatever works right?

Houston, we have a nanny! Yah Man. She's from Jamaica, so excuse me if I lapse into 'patois' now and again. I have this annoying habit of absorbing new accents, mannerisms etc, that 'tickle my fancy'. It's just a thing that I do, but I get over it pretty quickly. Ms. Carmen and fabulous and cool and all good beans and gravy except for one minor detail. Numero Uno Son hates her guts. Now I know it's just a two year old acting out, cos he misses his "Aunt Wida", but he sure does say the meanest things. Like, "Go away!". "Don't touch me/it/my arm!". Just beastly, I tell you. My heart goes out to her and I pray every night that she's still there when I wake up, because I would have packed my bags and quit by now if I were her.

Well, gotta go do the nursing thing. We'll dialog later,
pp

He's soooo.... 'interesting looking!' ??????

So you always wonder, do parents of homely babies, know that they are, you know... not that cute? (Anyone remember that Seinfeld' episode' with Elaine and the 'snuggly' baby?). Or maybe you wonder if you will be able to tell as a parent, if your baby looks like say, Yoda. No offense, star wars fans. The answer is an emphatic, "Ofocurse!". Meaning, yes, you will know. And no, it won't matter cause somehow, you'll think they're cute inspite of whatever their flaw is. For example, your baby has martian like ears, you will find yourself thinking, "His ears are so weird, but so CUTE on him!" And gushgushgush all day long. This is nature's way of making we do not as humans eat our young or schedule them for plastic surgery at week two post birth. The reason I bring this up is because monkeyboy definitely looks like a monkey. And I know this and I'm okay with this, but I could STILL just eat him up! I'm still waiting for the "his feet are SO precious" comments. Cause that's when you truly know that you have a 'homely one' on your hands. People come up with all kinds of 'creative' compliments/comments. It's okay. Really. Just say nothing. Because Mama knows. And no, Mama doesn't care. Because everyone knows that guys have it easy. Just speak halfway decent, dress and smell nice and you're good. Besides, look at my track record (by way of my number one son.) - hehehe. But MonkeyBoy does have the cutest toes though. :) giggle.

PP

Name That Monkey

So we named the monkey-boy, though he shall remain, probably, for the duration of this blog 'monkey boy', 'mk' or 'number two son". One of the things I adore about my culture is some of our traditions, which seem like no big deal, but which really, really are. A big deal, I mean. And special. Like the naming ceremony, such as the one we had for 'le petit monkey'. What is monkey in french anyway? We just invited a few friends and family, because I didn't want it to be 'business as usual', huge party, messy house afterwards, people you don't care for that much, rahrahrah. Who needs that? So we went the peaceful, intimate route and I got to experience the naming of my second born through the eyes of people who had never been to one, and that was so great. So thank you friends who attended. You know who you are.

In 'Other News Of The Day', two kids is so much harder than one. Believe that. Whew! But I'd do it again in a heartbeat - only cos I am slightly crazy, I guess. :) . What else? Oh, at my last 'weigh in', I had dropped 9 pounds total. I know, it's depressing. Considering my son weighed in at 7 pounds 5 oz or so, I'm doing the math and I still don't get it. Also perplexing is the whole "tummy taut' thing I bought. The jury is still out on that one.

xoxo, pp

So Darn Beautiful...

No, not me, silly. Him. He's here, and he's gorgeous, and little, and all curled up, the little monkey-boy. He so looks like my Father whom I lost last year that sometimes I laugh and cry at the same time, looking at him. "Prof, E biala?" (literal translation: "Prof, have you come?") - most people, including us , in casual conversation called my Father "Prof".

So my darling son came at 1.20 am on the twentieth of january, 2008. Yes, this one is quite the showoff, isn't he? I had no contractions and no sign that he was coming, aside from the fact that my due date had passed and my induction had been cancelled for no apparent reason. But my number two son had his own plans. Long story short, hubby and I were debating over whether my water had broken or if it was just a faucet leak - i know, too weird- and so we decided to let the doctor answer that one. My water hadn't broken, but I was 4 cm dilated, contracting but not feeling anything, which is pretty awesome. Until they broke my water and I was speechless with pain. Couple hours later and after only thirty minutes of pushing, monkey-boy was here! Almost too easy in retrospect. Praise God from whom all blessings flow, for monkey-boy is truly that to me/us.

It's my second day home with baby and I have a couple of interesting observations.

Milk truly IS the new Prada. My milk, that is. This child craves it. I mean like every second. To make matters worse, I have sprouted some hard, ginormous melon thingies on my chest. Arghhh! Anguish. This could actually be worse than labor.

Little man - my number one son - is a brat. How come I never noticed this before? He told me to "be quiet!" today and stared at me defiantly, glowering from his 'timeout' corner. He coughs all over baby, when he has been explicitly told not to. And he does it deliberately. But he is so cute though. And we all know that this covers a multitude of sins.

I haven't lost 40 pounds yet. I haven't lost 20 pounds yet. Okay, I haven't even lost 10 pounds yet. A measly 8 pounds when I weighed this morning. Am I being unrealistic? I vaguely remember dropping 20 pounds almost immediately the first time, and at two weeks postpartum, being 3 or 5 pounds away from my goal weight. Hmmm. Not happening this time around, I'll tell you that. But the good part about this is that I feel and look better than I did the last time. I uploaded a picture of me, 8 hours after having my baby. I look phenomenal, if I do say so myself :)

ttyl, PP