What Happen to My Marriage?

I was talking with a friend who is going through tough times with her marriage, kids, and other stuff thats was piling on. It got me thinking about my own dirty laundry, not to mention the stuff in the dryer, so I searched "Marriage after baby" on the Holy Grail, Pinterest, for inspiration. What did I get?

The moment you give birth you love your spouse even more.
They never knew how much they loved their husband until he became a daddy.
Their love was bonded even stronger after witnessing the miracle of birth.

I call bullshit. My first thought was, well what the hell happen to me? I can't be the only one that this DIDNT happen for.

What about those of us that don't witness the miracle. Those of us who don't get to watch our husbands be daddies, Thanks Army! How about those of us who don't bond after having a baby- but instead grow apart? Everyone wants to tell you how your life is going to change after having a baby. How you will never love someone more. They were talking about my baby. Not my spouse. What happen to my marriage?

Its hard for me to talk about because a lot of people like to give unsolicited advice where its not wanted. And no one is worse at judging than adults who think their life is perfect. But I don't think people are honest enough about what really can happen after a baby. Or in my case. Two.

When I gave birth to Spaz, it was one of the greatest days of my life. But it was a day that would change my marriage. Beast and I already had some cards stacked against us. We were are young, got married quickly, moved across the country 1000s of miles away from family the MORNING after our wedding, and I got pregnant 2 weeks later. You know how they say God only gives you what he knows you can handle? Well the Lord thinks I'm one bad ass! After having Spaz, I was one of the luckies to get postpartum depression. I knew what it was but didnt KNOW what it really was going to be. I cried a lot. And by a lot, I mean I cried because breast feeding was painful, Spaz was crying from hunger, no one listened to me when I said I hated breastfeeding- you read that right, settle down- I burnt the hamburgers, my husband was snoring, I couldn't find my slippers, my show wasn't a new episode... You name it, it broke my heart. I've been told a time or two growing up that I am what they call, a drama queen. So I brushed it off. No one educated my husband either what postpartum depression is so he thought his wife was a basket case. Proper information would have informed him to call the doctor or give me wine. Or both. But all of this caused me to resent him and our marriage. I blamed him for my tears almost all of the time. Which in turn caused arguments over the pettiest of things. Resulting in those bonds of ours to crack. Where is this chanted deep bond and unconditional love everyone keeps posting about? Why don't I look at my husband and cry over the love I have for him like everyone else seems to have? What is wrong with me? Eventually the hormones left town and my PPD eased up. This didnt happen over night and with Beast leaving for his first deployment and the fights from undealt-with resentment, put a major crack in our marriage that we never sealed before he left.

I remember the Christmas right before he first deployment. We both hadn't slept since Spaz was born and never dealt with our drifting bond for 6 months. I think we both thought this was normal and that it will just work out. Like everyone tells you whenever ANYTHING goes wrong- It will work out. One of the worst things you can say to someone. Sometimes its better to just shut up and hug the other person. Or maybe we were too ashamed to admit that something is wrong. I know I was. It was Spaz's first Christmas and Beast's first deployment, so we both had different agendas back home. But since we weren't communicating we ended up having one of the biggest fights Iv ever endured with someone I love. He wanted to say goodbye and spend time with his family Christmas eve. I wanted just us 3 to be together for Christmas morning. We both weren't dealing with his impending leave and buried it blaming each other for our faults. I will admit openly I was being selfish and wanted him to myself. I couldn't help but think- what if this is the last time I see you? As we are screaming at each other I kept looking at him, waiting, hoping, wanting him to look at me in the eyes, so that I could see into his soul and KNOW he loved me and KNOW he was coming back to me. That he still looked at me with the same admiration he did before we were married. Before we had kids and my time was consumed with the baby. He looked at me.. But I didnt see any of it. I saw me. I saw me falling apart... busting at the seams. Not to mention 40 pounds heavier. Get ahold of yourself, woman! I kept thinking. See that your husband is scared and needs you to understand. But I didnt. I just kept thinking- what has happened to me? What happen to my marriage?

I was terrified of what was happening to my life, my marriage, my child. I was terrified of him leaving when I wouldn't admit it. Trying to be strong for the baby. To this day, if you ask me about my husband being gone, I will put on a smile and say things like, "its not that bad" "we are doing great" or "I have a lot of faith", because what else am I suppose to say? If you look deep into MY eyes 2 years ago, you would see darkness. You would have see nothing. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But what if it doesn't. I couldn't, I wouldn't, I wasn't dealing with my resentment towards Beast for leaving, for dropping my life and career path for his, for leaving my family behind and changing my last name for him. All bullshit that really only I could control. And I see that now, but then I didnt. I didnt want to feel sad, or lonely, or lost anymore. I wanted to be a rock for my child. I didnt want to think about what my marriage has become since having a baby. So I turned it off. I turned off my emotion towards it all and became stone. Maybe this sounds good on paper, but when you turn off the pain, you turn off the happiness. And when Beast came back, I didnt turn that emotion back. I never cried when he left. I never cried when he was gone. I never cried when he came back. I felt nothing. I was darkness with a painted on smile. Don't get me wrong, I loved my husband and I still do. But I was a side of me Iv never seen. I kept my emotion for my child and smiled genuinely and honestly for him. But I failed my husband. I was failing my marriage. Beast came back and I was ALL about my child. Everything I did was for my son. My heart and soul ALL went to my son. I didnt put baby in the corner- I put Beast there. The fighting and coldness didnt stop. I could barely hold his hand without feeling uncomfortable. We lived with my mom at the time so I didnt even want to kiss him in front of everyone in the house. When beast would try to be playful I would get uncomfortable. I wasn't warming up to my own husband.

But Beast and I pushed on and tried working more honestly on each other. We were not going to break our childs home. Now I know that isn't the right choice for everyone, but for us we weren't ready to give up. So we did what any rational  couple would do during trying times. We bought a house. Then got knocked up! OH! and moved across the country away from family AGAIN. You see a pattern here, folks? If anything- we are consistent. I knew what happen to my marriage the last time I had a baby, and I knew that statistically I was likely to have postpartum depression again. This thought scared the living hell out of me AND Beast. Neither of us wanted that again. Plus now I had TWO pairs of slippers to cry over. So we tried our best with the Devil Mistress of the Army butting in all the time, Spaz going through terrible twos, And the stress of all the changes. We tried to be affectionate and show each other love but I was so wrapped up in being the best of the best of the best mom that I would get pissed and irritated when Beast would try to even hug me. "Im trying to cook dinner!" I would spit out. I put all my effort into my son. Leaving my husband to entertain himself in his man cave with the playstation. How I got pregnant again is miracle. Or an omen. We will find out. Everyone want to tell you how to be a good mother after having a kid. But how about being a good wife? How about- Hey don't forget about your husband. He needs attention too! Why doesn't anyone say its okay to put your spouse first sometimes. I will give Beast credit that he tried to give me attention and I was not having it. He was pulling my attention away from Spaz and that was making me feel guilty. I was already feeling guilty about bringing in another baby like he would think I don't love him as much. (But now Spaz knows he's the shit, so he has no issues after all about Moose- phew)

Moose was born just weeks before Beast left for yet another year long camping trip. With all the visiting family, packing, and school starting soon, I laid in bed nights after nights crying realizing that once again I was neglecting my husband and he was drifting from me before he left. Not again.. Please not again. What was another deployment and homecoming like before going to do? Were the cracks going to be so big, and so deep, that nothing was going to fix them? I cried for hours at night. But this time it wasn't PPD (if anything I was euphoric around my children) it was my first love. My Beast. I couldn't lose him. I wouldn't lose him. And I vowed to do better. But I never truly told him what was going on. I was too afraid that he would lash out from insult. Or get angry and blame me. I didnt want to hear that maybe it was all my fault. Eventually, telling Beast, more like vomiting my emotion to him, is what helped begin to heal those breaks and start the process of coming back together.

I didnt cry as I stood by his side, waiting to say goodbye. Not because I turned off my emotions again. But because I was going to be stronger and deal with this (and I'm an ugly crier- Kim Kardashian style...look it up). I was going to love myself and my husband more- fall in love with this man all over again. I was going to forgive him and myself for drifting apart. I wasn't going to let having kids change my marriage.

When I hugged him goodbye and held on as hard as I could, I felt it. I felt that punch in the stomach, squeeze you lungs, can't breath feeling. Tears flooded my eyes. Its finally there. My deep, your my best friend, I need you feelings were still there. It was THAT moment I finally took the last brick off the wall I had built up over two years down. All I said was, "come home to me", walked away, got in my car and cried. Cried of joy that my marriage wasn't over. Cried because I was going to miss him. Cried because of what happen to my marriage and now what was going to happen.

As hard as this is to openly talk about, marriage changes after kids. Even when you're like Beast and I, and haven't been married long before kids. Even if you had kids BEFORE you got married. Kids change relationships. Change you for the good. And change you for the bad at times. Im not proud of the ways I treated Beast when I became a mom. And Im sure there are moments he's not proud of how he treated me. Because not enough are honest to say it- Put your spouse first sometimes. It doesn't make you selfish, it makes you a better parent. Kids grow up learning from the relationships they are surrounded by. You're SUPPOSE to gross them out and show affection. So go ahead, Beast. I want you to hold my hand and kiss me like we are still two teenagers hiding in pantry at the Shoreline. And I won't slap your hand if you grab my ass. I got a lot to grab.  (Sorry Dad)

Humor in Life

THE MILITARY LIFE

How I feel when someone compliments how Im handling things alone

How I feel when I hear someone complain they miss their boyfriend after two weeks

When its 11PM and Spaz is still screaming because he doesn't want to go to bed

But how I feel when I hear Spaz crying for daddy in his sleep

When Spaz goes to bed 5 minutes after I walk out of his room

When Spaz takes my homework and draws on it..

How I feel when a wife from the company tells me her husband is coming home for the birth


When wives ask if the guys will come home early. EVERY SINGLE MEETING


And what Im going to do when I get Beast's flight schedule



THE STUDENT LIFE
How felt when they told me they are admitting 38 students from the 200 applicants this fall semester.

How I looked when I found out people were complaining about my sleeping baby in class

Yet, What I do when Will starts talking during class...

How I felt when the advisor told me to take a semester off because I couldn't possibly handle coming back to school after birth


And when I arrived at the start of the semester 14 days after pushing a kid out

What happened when the guy next to me asked if labor hurt 

Or when the two blondes in class were telling me about how women uncontrollably pee themselves after birth


What happens after I realized the last thing I ate was coffee in the morning before class... 6 hours ago


Or by 6PM on Friday...





When the guy in lab asks you for the answer, but after I explain it he asks the teacher


And when she says the exact same thing that I JUST said


So I get a perfect score and those who doubted my answers did not....



What I did when I got a 4.0 while pregnant, giving birth, having two kids under 3, and said goodbye to my husband


Then I went outside and did this.

Moms That Suck

In the spirit of Mother's Day coming in a month, lets talk Mothers I love to hate. These mother suck- yet I have a friend of every type. Happy Mothers Day, bitches.

The Grammar and Language Mom (or Dad in my case)
I am a shitty speler. There is no way arowned it. I say its because I think faster then I can write and I will admit I am used to my phone auto spelling (usually the wrong word) everything for me. And I swear. I don't swear in public (does in my car count?) or in front of children. But I have a toddler who thinks because daddy is gone, he can rip his diaper off and run ramped. So I need to lock myself in my closet and scream every cuss word I can think of into my pillow. What I can't stand is when I'm corrected. My husband does this to me ALL the time. But he has the foulest mouth. He loves to point out when I misspell things or when I use a wrong word. Correcting me over the internet is even worse. You are lucky there is no option to bitch slap on Facebook.

The Over Achiever Mom
The I-cook-everything-by-scratch-and-raise-my-own-chickens-while-teaching-my-kids-latin-before-building-the-back-porch mom. Good for you! Glad you have an endless wallet for all the organic non-proccessed foods and you've hypnotized your unhuman children into liking healthy crap. Im convinced you sold your soul to Martha Stewart. As another blogger said- Hi five and a slap on the ass to you.  I see you're your glare from across the room while I hand my kid a chocolate bar to shut him up for 15 minutes. I notice your murmurs as I hand him my phone to watch Squidward call Spongebob a moron. I need five minutes without having to tell Spaz, keep your diaper on! Stop touching yourself, its not a toy! So as you cook your pot roast with your personal garden veggies and bake your gluten, sugar, and fat free bundt cake, Im over here yelling for Spaz to get at the table and put down the cupcake, its time for dinner. And by dinner I mean heated up spaghetti in the microwave or chicken nuggets made out of horse hoofs. Ill have to get to rebuilding my shed next week.

The Research Mom
You have the CDC on speed dial and you like to tell me what can go wrong with my child.. Just because I don't post 20 articles on my parenting choices and shove my opinions in your face, doesn't mean I am an uneducated mother. I don't need to do hours of research to know what my gut says. When I was a kid, they didn't cover the outlets or cut my hotdog into tiny pieces. I got shot up with every vaccine possible, and thrown in a room with 20 chicken pox infected vermins. I turned out just fine folks. Kids are more resilient than you think. Iv managed to keep mine alive this long. There is hope for him yet. When Spaz would go to the beach with me, he always crapped out 10 pounds of sand from the 20 that he ate. Just last night he managed to sneeze into Moose's mouth and what did Moose do? He smiled. So while you're throwing endless amounts of statistics and articles at me, I'm watching my kid stand two inches from the TV and pick his nose.

The I-Lost-My-Baby-Weight-When-I-Left-The-Hospital Mom
I was at the gym the other day dropping off Moose (AKA ogre baby) when this skinny blonde barbie asked me how old my baby was. When I told her three months, she smiled and said, Oh mine too! She couldn't be more than 100 pounds. I complimented her saying she looked wonderful. Then she dropped her "I gained 50 pounds during pregnancy" bomb. Thanks, Tiny Tim. Im here laying on the floor in a pool of sweat, hopefully my own, wheezing louder than a sumo wrestler after a marathon, while you are cheerfully skipping away on that treadmill thinking about how you lost your weight from breastfeeding alone. I hate you and your skinny firm ass. Is it horrible I wanted to throw a cake at her? Or maybe I wanted to ask how they treated her tape worm.

The Perfect Hair and Makeup Mom
All I have to say is, I own 3 yoga pants. I have to do laundry eventually. And thats spit up  on my shirt from this morning. Maybe last night. Or last week. I lost track. Makeup? What is that? When Moose was born I chopped my hair off. A good 6 inches at least. A week or so ago my hair was down and 3 people I see every day said, "I love your new hair cut!"  And whenever I put makeup on, Spaz says, "Wuss on face mommy?" First time I wore makeup and picked up Moose.... he cried.

What kind of mom am I? One that swears like a sailor, and probably jokes about drinking alone in my closet too much. Who makes inappropriate jokes about duct taping my kid to his bed, and hugs him so much he calls them Bear Hugs. Who tries to provide a healthy environment, and lets the kid jump off the couch cause, well... he will learn. Who encourages to say Please and Thank You, and bribes her toddler with M&Ms. Who teaches her baby to soothe themselves sometimes, and sings her kids to sleep. Who feeds her kids homemade meals 5 days a weeks, and watches as her toddler pulls something out of the couch and eats it.  Who screws up just about everyday, but tells her kids she loves them every second.

When I First Thought I Was Fat

Remember when you first started thinking you were fat? The high school days where your whole body could fit into one leg of your jeans now. Iv always had some sort of image or body issue since I could remember. My generous genes provided me with the opportunity to hit puberty early and develop must faster then my peers. And by early, I mean 12... When I should be playing dress up with my Barbies, I was instead learning the ins and outs of being a "woman". I was with my poor stepdad at the time who had no idea what to do so he dropped me off at my aunts. My uncle proceeded to tell me to grab some ice cream and yell at the dog. That day will forever be burned into my mind. Not to mention... it was my birthday.

So from then on I started to develop and look at myself differently. Iv always had a curvy body. My mom used to call my JLo due to my unusually large ass that could used as a shelf. Though I know she was joking, it still bothered me and I would look in the mirror, comparing myself to other girls my age. While other girls my age still looked like average 12 year old girls (aka Justin Beiber), I had a more mature body. I had gotten mistaken for a 16 year old many times. My mother's friends would ask me to run to the store and get them cigarettes, thinking I was 18 already. This was my poor father's worse nightmare.

Yes, if only I was as skinny as I was when I first thought I was fat. Now, two kids later, Im in the most uncomfortable body I have ever been in. Both pregnancies I gain 60 pounds..  I know what you're thinking.. DAMN girl! Did you eat your husband? I almost did. I remember bawling in the kitchen because I was so hungry but nothing was satisfying. I craved raw meat! I was sure my kid was either a tape worm or the Omen. Instead he was almost 8 pounds at 36 weeks.  When I found out I was pregnant with Ogre baby, I was in great shape. I was the smallest I had been since high school and felt fantastic. I couldn't walk by a mirror without winking and yelling out cat calls, "Hey Girl! How you doin'?" But being pregnant through the winter was NOT a good idea. Its not fair that I was knocked up though Halloween candy, Thanksgiving turkey, and Christmas pie. At 4 weeks post partum, I called my doctor asking if I could start running again. All I heard from the other end was laughter.

So as I waited the full 6 weeks to get the clear from the doctor, I avoided the mirror at all costs. I know that I just had a baby but I felt sad, aggravated, and depressed when I would look at myself. Who was this woman in the mirror? Who's body is that? I know I should be happy because there are so many out there who would give up their body over and over again because they so desperately want a child, and here I am, 24 years old with two healthy (one HUGE) babies. But I am human. I am a woman in todays world where gorgeous, unrealistic new moms are flashed on Entertainment Tonight every day. I have come to the conclusion- they are freaks of nature. No one really tells you about the fourth trimester of your pregnancy. The trimester where you have pushed out a baby, fluids, half your organs, and if you are real lucky, a little shit for good fortune. Yes, I should be grateful my body just carried yet another little miracle man. But I will admit it. I was not happy with who I was in the bathroom mirror. I felt ugly. I felt fat. I felt unattractive. I wanted to feel like I was the most beautiful woman for The Beast, but as much as he told me I was still gorgeous as ever, I didn't agree. As wives, we don't necessarily feel better when our husbands compliment us. How do we know they really mean it, and they just aren't trying to avoid being smothered in their sleep?

What felt like forever was finally up. I joined a gym, got some work out clothes that fit, got Ogre baby signed up for the gym daycare and was completely ready to sweat my ass off. I was on the treadmill, sweating, breathing like a horse, and thinking- "damn girl, you must have been going for an hour now".... it had been 10 mins. So I was a little out of shape. It didn't help that my uber in shape, skinny, gorgeous friend was working out next to. She was going on that elliptical like Luke Bryan was down the road with no security and a puppy in his arms with her name on it. After my first day back in the gym, I just laid on the floor in a pool of sweat. Breathing like a 400 pound man with asthma.. Thinking, "I better be skinny in the morning"

But I have to tell myself that it takes time. And that I will never get my high school body back. I have had two kids after all. Spaz managed to push out my hips during labor- being a drama queen and all he had to make a grand entrance to let me know he has arrived. A true mamas boy from the beginning. And Ogre baby had me eating cupcakes like is was my last meal for 36 weeks. Ontop of that, I have stripes on my body like a tiger goddess.. Thanks boys.

Pre Ogre Pregnancy

9 Months into Ogre Pregnancy

Post Ogre Pregnancy

Its been about 10 weeks since Ogre was born and Iv lost 30 lbs so far. I'm halfway there. Its been getting easier to look in the mirror and feel better about myself. My mood is up, which Spaz is thankful for, and I feel less likely to inhale 23 mini cupcakes (I say this as I eye down those frosted animal crackers Spaz has).

I will never give up on my yoga pants and sweatshirts BUT I am embracing jeans again, along with wine- but for much different reasons. The best part? I know longer have Spaz lifting up my shirt in public to poke at my belly and say. "Jiggle jiggle, mommy!"

He's a gentleman. 

I Watch Too Much TV

A deady drug

I watch too much TV.. Actually I watch too much Netflix. Are you the type of person who ruins the movie because you take an educated guess at the beginning how its going to end? I am. And ask my husband- Im right 99% of the time. He hates it. When we start a movie, especially a crime movie, the first thing he says is- DONT GUESS THE KILLER. So the whole time I sit there with a smirk on my face and at the end I blurt out, I KNEW IT!You know that scene from The Heat, where she thinks she knows how to do a tracheotomy after watching it on Dr. Oz or whatever she was watching? If not CLICK THIS, this ego of mine has convinced me that watching these shows makes me capable of knowing what to do. And thats just dangerous.

CSI- New York
They have the greatest one liners at the beginning (you must read these in Mac Taylors voice), "These teens died from blunt force from rocks. Guess these kids...got stoned" "The cook was stabbed with a cork screwed. He got screwed..." "you killed your brother on a plane. Now your grounded"... Waiting for the one liners is half the fun. The other half is learning what to do if I ever come across a dead body. If I stumble upon a corpse- say on campus that was mauled by a mountain lion- don't judge, we were seriously warned at orientation- I'm going to end up being THIS guy:

Ill first tell everyone to back up and give this dead guy some breathing space. Then I'll grab my moby wrap from the trunk of my car and tape off the crime scene. Then I'll stare over the body and give my best one liner while taking my sunglasses off, "Here.. kitty, kitty". Next i'll put on my gloves from lab and use my tweezers from my makeup bag to pull off the cat hair evidence, which I will then stick in my zip lock bags that I keep my pretzels in (don't worry, I dumped those. Cant contaminate evidence). Once I use my blush and brush off finger prints- obviously from the student who let the giant kitty out on campus, Ill use the packing tape I keep in the car for the Beast care packages and remove the prints. That way when the police finally show up, I can hand them the stuff and say.. "Your welcome"  Cue theme music.

LOST
Then there is Lost. If my plane ever crashes on an island, I will stand up and say to my fellow survivors- "Do not panic my fellow men and women. I got this! I watch Netflix" First we will make huts out of the bamboo and giant leaves with the string we miraculously had on hand. Also we will pull a pile of drugs together. Because what Iv learned from Lost is people travel with a hella ton of drugs and someone will get shot. Or pregnant. Then I will get sticks and carve them into spears because Lost has taught me that spear fishing it easy. I will feed all! Fish for everyone! But when that polar bear shows up, we are dead. I can't take on a polar bear. Thats just unrealistic.

STALKED
This has taught me to be paranoid.

My Husband's Mistress

Thats right- you read that correctly. My husband has a mistress.. her name is Afghanistan. And she is a needy wench. Once a year or so she gets lonely and forces my husband to fly across the globe to keep her company for almost the whole year. Leaving me here to have a grand old time as a single parent. And to top it off, whenever the Beast leaves for deployment, all hell breaks loose. If you were sitting around your house thinking, "Hmm I wonder what its like to be Dani over in Colorado while her Beast man is gone.." first I'd tell you that you need to get a life, and then I would enlighten you to the joys of being a military wife to two military brats.

6:00 AM
The day usually starts out with Spaz yelling from his gated off room (you'll learn more about the imprisonment later),
"Mom! Mom! Mama! Mom! Mama! Mama! Mama! Mom! Moooooooooooooom!!!! GET UP!"
"Yes, Spaz, Im coming!"
"Moooooooooooom!!!! Im poopy!"

6:30AM
After I clean up my Spaz' diaper and lecturing him on the joys of going potty on the actual toilet, I begin chasing him around for 15 minutes yelling- "Spaz put a diaper on! We don't do naked mornings... that ended 2 1/2 years ago! Get back here. No don't pee over there!!"

6:45AM
Next is the youngest Spaz, AKA Ogre Baby. I smell something rancid coming from my bedroom. As I walk toward the room all I can think is, "Oh please be a rotting animal..." But nope. That is an explosion of mess in the crib next to the bed. A good morning present from my little gift from the heavens.

7:30AM
After cleaning up that mess we move on to feeding each monster. Ogre baby is easy to feed. He usually wants boob AND bottle then he licks the bottle clean after leaving me deflated. Spaz on the other hand wants one thing and one thing only- Hotdogs and chocolate milk. After telling him no he needs a normal breakfast he usually eats about two bites. After changing, feeding, cleaning, changing again, getting dressed (Which is sweatpants, t-shirt, and hair in pony with dark circles under my eyes) and packing bags, we are finally out the door to school. Oh but not before I hear a powerful voice scream,

"Moooom!!!! Mommmmyyy!!! Im poopy!"

8:30AM
Finally Spaz is at daycare after 10 hugs, 25 kisses, and 15 mins of stalling because he doesn't want me to leave, Ogre Baby and I find a couch to study on while we wait for Chem class. And by study, I mean attempt to read some Chemistry while every other person who walks by stops to say hi to Ogre Baby and ask me 30 questions on being a mom and a student. Let me break it down for you: Being a mom is easy. Because its instinct. Being a student is not. Its not instinct for me to know how to write the condensed structure of 2,2-dimethyl-3-ethylbutanol. I don't think thats any sane human's instinct.
If I'm lucky Beast will Skype me and we will chat about the local gossip and plans for when he comes back. During this I usually get some insane stares from the other students. Why is that hot mess of a chick with that small squawking human talking to her computer?

12:05PM
Class is finally done and Ogre has ate twice but wants more again after his continuous farting through the whole lecture. Baby or not- farts aren't cute.

2:00PM
After an afternoon of cleaning, feeding Ogre Baby, studying, some renovations, feeding Ogre Baby some more, changing 50 diapers with unimaginable colors inside, trying to fit a little time of working out in, and feeding Ogre Baby some more, its time to run to the Post Office to send Beast some care packages. I would like to say this is a quick run.... Ill stand there for an hour waiting as one person works the desk with a 3 mile long line full of angry and high Coloradans continuously bitching about the postal service and blaming it on either, A) the government, B) Obama, C) Immigrants or, D) the Yeti.

3:00PM
As I carry my 50 lb load of baby and carseat into the daycare, while trying to punch in our code through 2 security doors, I start to feel like Im visiting a prison inmate after signing my name in through two books onto of that. I finally get to his classroom door. Spaz's teachers then continue to tell me like they do EVERY day since Beast left, that Spaz was very emotional today and I need to continue to work with him and his emotions. If not that, I get an incident report on how some kid jumped mine and beat the toddler out of him... For how much we pay for daycare here for not even full time, I think they can keep their opinions on how my son is handling his dads departure to themselves and do their jobs.

4:00PM 
Its time for the FRG meeting. For those not associated with the military, this is the Family Readiness Group. The team of wives that help each other out during deployments with anything. For those who are associated with the military, this should be RFG for Real Fast Gossip. I don't usually go but I try and make an effort to be involved and get to know more of the wives. However, like a lot of fellow enlisted wives, I have learned a few things of the people to avoid. You avoid those who think they sweat gold and shit glitter. The ones who can do no wrong because of their husbands rank. Because of these women I usually don't partake in the meetings. I don't feel like sitting next you while you tell me how you know exactly what I'm going through as a mom while her husband is away because you have two cats. Because as all of you mothers know- cats and dogs are just like parenting a child.

5:00PM
Its time for dinner. So I ask Spaz what would he like?
"Hotdogs and chocolate milk"  So Chicken and potatoes it is. As Im cooking, I have Ogre Baby who is hungry again and screaming in my arms to feed him because he won't take pacifiers (iv never appreciated a pacifier more than I have in the last two months), and I have a toddler running around naked screaming hotdogs! chocolate milk! cars cars cars!! Im looking around the corner continuously saying, "put your diaper back on!"...

6:00PM
After getting Spaz to eat two bites of his food, begging him to finish his milk, and giving him yet another dose of benedryl because he has again broke into hives, I bribe him to sit and watch Cars for the 20th time this week- Ogre Baby wants to eat more. Im feeding him while a toddler drags me across the house by my pants to help him with a million things he's managed to break. ONLY TWO MORE HOURS UNTIL BEDTIME... After the 10th melt down in a row, I keep telling myself- you don't want to drink that bottle of wine.

7:30PM
Its bath time now and I fill up the tub but not fast enough. Spaz strips off the clothes Iv put on him for the 30th time and throws every toy he owns into the tub. I start to say, "No, not that one! That one has batteries!!" But its too late. And another one bites the dust.

8:00PM 
FINALLY. Bed time. The heavens have opened and the angels are singing hallelujah. First I have to clean up the gallons of water Spaz has dumped out of the tub. He believed it was the funniest damn thing since sliced bread. Now begins the real fun for the night. The game of "How many times can I get out of bed before mom duct tapes me to my mattress"... Bring it on little man. After an hour of me putting him into his bed and him laughing and chasing me out, naked none-the-less, I gate off his room and he's FINALLY passed out, head down, legs over the side of the bed. As if he was praying that I would let him stay up longer. So I head to bed after cleaning up the tornado that went through the house.. But ill be up every 3 hours or less to feed my garbage disposal baby. As Im laying there about to fall asleep I realize... I haven't even eaten yet.

Two Weeks

Well we have hit two weeks. Yes, I may or may not be crying. But these past couple weeks I have been crying over everything. Hormones at their best! Currently the Spaz and I are both sick with head colds. Lovely. A bunch of snot and whiney folks up in this biz snitch! My hours of sleep went from 5 a night to about 2… I have to paint on the under eye concealer these days. You know that feeling of waking up fresh and alive?

                                      I dont.

Ok so maybe I didn't do ALL that pre-baby Spaz. But you know I did paint this whole house and put it all together. And worked on our yard. Although I did manage to kill it. ALL. But the after is spot on. I forgot to even eat breakfast this morning. And I love food. Hence the 50+ pregnancy weight gain and just about an 8 pound baby at 36 weeks. Mmm cupcakes.

I wasn't going to nurse Baby Spaz but last minute I decide to go for it. I was tired of the judgmental looks and comments I got from almost everyone when I told them I didn't want to nurse. You'd think that I just said I plan on putting my child in a crib and locking the door for 12 months. I think that people these are way to judge wudgy on pregnancy and new mothers. Or parenting in general. The best decision is the decision YOU are happy with and that YOU feel good about. Love your child, feed him and protect him. There yah go. But how you do is no one else's business and they should keep it to themselves. However, I let what people said and how they looked at me get to me. So I will try pumping this time and if it works out then awesome. If not, Im not going to stress and cry for 5 months like I did with Spaz. I will do whats best for me and my child. So I have been exclusively pumping… Oy. Now I know what Ole' Bessy feels like.

This is how I feel now.

Spaz hates it. He panics every time I begin to pump.. He begs me, "Mama all done! All done!" He seems to be concerned that I am in pain. His sick sixth sense for his mama is unbelievable. This is the kid that followed me around the house asking if I was okay the night I was admitted into the hospital and began labor before I even knew it. The Beast is slightly concerned we may be nursing a scarring relationship between Spaz and I. Lets hope he doesn't have memories of his toddler years or his mothers knockers will be burned into his nightmares forever. Sorry Spaz.