big baby boy

11 pounds, 10 ounces at 3.5 weeks... if Charlie continues at this rate, he'll weigh over 50 pounds by his first birthday!

I suppose this explains why my boobs constantly hurt: it's tough to keep up with the feeding demands of such a large child.

Our screamer is healthy, except for some troublesome diaper rash and a belly button that is bordering on herniated. Mom and dad, however, are exhausted.

Cute Baby Photos

We won't hold out on you... we know you don't want to hear from us and you only want photos of Charles. It's cool. We can handle it.

Now that Charlie's demanding public is placated, we just want to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving. Three days late. Because we roll on baby time now :-)

We had a wonderful week filled with lots of family. Charles got to meet his cousin Claire and his Aunt Sarah and Uncle Andy, as well as spend time with both sets of grandparents. He even got to meet his daddy's aunt and cousins on Friday! We still aren't sleeping much around here, but I understand that is pretty normal for a 3-week old baby. Charles is growing by leaps and bounds, and it is amazing how different he looks from day to day, almost. He opens his eyes more and more each day, too. We are truly blessed with a wonderful addition to our family, and we are thankful every day for his safe arrival and his continued growth and good health.

adorable

typing with one hand, because mr. adorable is in the other, nursing. almost as cute as Charles? these puppies.

And then all hell broke loose...

Who needs an oven and a washer anyhow?

Two or three days ago (time having become relative to the last feeding), the washer broke. Just great when you have an infant in the house and laundry coming out your ears. Every time we set it to wash warm or hot, it would just turn off. Now, our washer is new, a ginormous gift from my parents when we moved into this house, broke after plunking our savings and graduation gifts and grandma gifts into a down payment. Seriously, thing should not break. And, in fact, it didn't, the washer repair guy was just here, flipped a few switches back and forth (just turn it off and on real fast!) and it is fixed. But that's a different story that didn't end in tears, only extreme frustration and, oh, okay, a few tears at having to shell out 80 bucks for something we'd TRIED doing ourselves multiple times. Gar.

So, anyhow, at first I called Sears, since that's where it came from, and even though I have my mom's receipts for the dang thing, Sears has NO RECORD OF IT EVER BEING PURCHASED. Which translates to: We can't help you. No, seriously. I finally, after speaking to three people and crying, literally, on the phone to the third, got a service appointment set, when they hit me with the payment options. Minimum $109 charge just to have the repairman come out, on top of any fees s/he might charge for a service call, plus parts and labor. I guess this is Sears' fee for the "service" they render over the phone. Some service. I cried again. Then, they offered me a DEAL, the bastards: Pay $214 now and we'll cover all service for the next year. What a deal, especially considering that, as I said before, the washer is new as of 18 months ago. Likely, we won't need any service on it for another ten years. So I did what any woman with crazy just-pushed-a-nine-pound-baby-out-her-you-know-what would do. I cried and passed the decision to Tony. He wisely said "up yours, Sears" and made a service appointment with the local appliance company that outfitted our entire kitchen.

Then the oven broke. Only the oven is really broken, not just flip-switches-back-and-forth-to-miraculously-fix-it broken. All those meals I prepared and froze for "when the baby comes"? Useless to me now. The repairman comes for that on Tuesday. At least it is solidly under warranty. There were tears involved in the discovery that we had no working oven, as well.

Then, on Thursday, we took Charles to his c-i-r-c-you-fill-in-the-rest appointment (there are crazies out there who have that term on permanent Google Search just so they can leave blog comments about how hundreds of American men - is that even statistically relevant? - try to reverse theirs every year with disgusting weights and tape. My thought is that they obviously need something to blame for their stupid lives, and looking to their actions or morals just seems too difficult, so they focus on some physical ridiculous-ness that all men I have talked to, Tony included, say isn't even a choice. It's just what you do with sons). I didn't stay in the room for the procedure, I made Tony do it, but I was thoroughly traumatized by the bloody aftermath. I now understand, I think, what it is to be a mother: wanting, wishing, praying to do anything to take away all suffering of your child. That and a bunch of other stuff. Anyhow, that whole thing ended in tears for me as well. Aren't hormones awesome?

My folks are here this weekend, which has helped me to be a bit more sane today (funny what taking a shower and brushing your teeth will do for a girl... now if only I could find time to eat) and my mother-in-law comes on Monday to help out. Such a blessing. In the immortal words of Britney Spears, "Parenting is hard, y'all." It has taken me hours just to finish this post.

The little chomper is doing well and eating lots (my porn-star-sized breasts are sore as all get-out), mostly sleeping well, too. I am so in love, I can't even describe it. Here are some of the latest photos:

That's a big yawn for such a little face :-)

Halloween

As you could probably surmise, I have spent my 27 Halloweens in a variety of places and a variety of costumes. This year perhaps wins the "Best Costume Ever" award. Outshining Elvis, a Barrel of Toxic Waste, a Librarian (Tony's request... like you needed to know that), many witches, Madonna, 80's Career Barbie, and more, I give you the grown-up version of what our baby would be like if we actually named him or her Cletus:

Yes, that's me on the left, complete with PBR Tall (that my friend Sheran drank for me) and AC/DC tattoo. As you can see, Tony did not let me go out of the house alone in this getup, but he also refused to go with me. Hmm. I know you can't tell from the photo, but I have enough makeup on to give me a five o'clock shadow and a happy trail up my exposed belly. I had more strangers take photos of me than ever before on Halloween and lots of compliments. Really, it comes down to working with what you've got, and what I've got is a large belly. So, I guess you could say that for Halloween, I was a hick and the baby was a beer gut. Good thing the Boobs of Fury are prominent enough that no one actually mistook me for a dude ;-)

Where did we go dressed like crazies, you might ask? Why, the local theatre for the annual showing of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show," of course. And let me assure you, we were tamely dressed compared to some...

We've got the biggest balls of them all

I would like to preface this blog entry by saying that I support the concept of public art and installation art. I think it is important to support the arts and I think that municipal installation art is a great way to expose the public to great works of art.

I also think that there are reasons to not purchase art, especially using hotel/motel tax funds. Hotel/motel tax funds are designated for endeavors that will promote and enhance tourism in the city. These funds are often used to run visitor's centers, advertising campaigns, and city beautification projects. Occasionally, I suppose, public art falls under that last category. For example, Renee O'Connor's lovely tiles in the sidewalk in Long Beach - they have a historical message and are beautiful and I think they enhance the tourist experience. But sometimes, art for art's sake just doesn't work for me. And the whole town of Mount Vernon is up in arms over what I (and many people) think is a particularly ugly and inappropriate piece of installation art for which the city paid $30,000 in hotel/motel tax funds and then decided to put in front of the building in which I work. Why here? Because the downtown association thought it was too ugly to put downtown, and the Mayor did not want it in the part across from his office because he didn't want to look at it every day, either.

So, what comes to mind when you see our lovely new sculpture?

I think it looks like sperm. And so do lots of other people. Notice that it is white. We are taking bets on how long it will be before it is tagged with graffiti. You know, since it now lives outside of the freakin' bus station.

Fortunately for Mount Vernon, we are not short on creativity, and this has sparked a new interest in coming up with a "fresh" slogan for Mount Vernon.

Mount Vernon: We've got the biggest balls of them all

Mount Vernon: Get it on!

Mount Vernon: Come rub our balls

I just don't get it. How does this giant sculpture (which, by the way, the artist has been trying to sell since 1999 and didn't have any takers until he found some suckers on our city council, who did as many politicians do and didn't listen to the constituency - basically the entire town - when we said that we didn't want to buy this monstrosity) attract tourists or enhance their tourism experience?

All I can say is that I think I am going to go kick Mount Vernon in the balls when I leave work today.

Failure

It's funny how things can feel like they're going so great, and then you can hit one day, just one 24 hour period, and things seem to fall apart. Worried, scared, frustrated, tired, sad... just some of the many emotions I am experiencing right now. Oh, and I am trying not to wallow in self-pity, I really am, but geez, things are no good, you know? Tony spent some time ripping up the floor last night where the contractor said he didn't think the floor needed to come up. It was soaked, the contractor is full of crap, but I will surely be holding my tongue around him because, hey, he is fixing this all for free (as well he should - it was his screw up). So things smell bad, there is black mold, a large dehumidifier machine makes a ton of noise, I have no working dishwasher or oven, I can't reach the microwave, and my house is a mess. To top off my fears of poisoning my whole family with this fiasco (seriously, black mold is BAD and that many Clorox fumes can't be good either), I know my blood pressure is getting worse. I can feel my face all hot and throbby. So, all in all, Monday was not a good day and it has sort of screwed the entire week.

I feel like I am failing this child already. Okay, so I have felt that all along. I have gained waaay too much weight (who's a big, fat whale?) and now I have high bp and am breathing spores. Due to the bp, I am no longer doing even the minuscule housekeeping items I was doing before, like the few hand wash dishes we have and feeding the dog, because every time I move, my heart freaks out. What makes it worse is that this child is no closer to coming out and I will likely have to go through another five weeks of miserable, swollen ankles and clothes that don't fit (even large maternity shirts!) before I bring this baby into the world. And then, what if it's deformed or has some horrible disability?

Thanks for reading my rant, internet friends. I am trying to believe it will all get better, but I have a real hard time seeing past the dust and detritus in my kitchen and living room, or the dirt in my bathroom, or the laundry piles, or the overflowing garbage cans, or... I could go on, but you get the picture. Even without the kitchen torn up, things are dirty enough that I wouldn't want to invite friends or family over to visit. So don't come over! Gah!