Feed me I'm Yours

Right when my little sweet baby turned all Hyde on me when he was sprouting teeth, his sleeping patterns got all shot to shit. He has never been a great napper, but night time he is a dream baby. But he started getting up 5 times a night, and unless his momma came to his rescue rocking him for hours straight, then he wouldn't got back to sleep either.

fun shit.

In my delerious state I decided my poor baby was hungry and we must start feeding him cereal to make sure his little belly is full. Like, now. Justin tried to talk me out of it. He wants to admit our baby is growing up even less then I do. But of course I brought home the cereal and threw the camera in his hand and said "Game face on Daddy, it's feeding time.:

Liam at that shit up. He was smiling, laughing, opening his mouth up for more. It was so cute. And that night I laid down dreaming of 3 straight hours of unbroken sleep. Of course he got up 6 times just to fuck with me.

Then two days later his little sharp chicklets shined through and he went back to sleeping like a dream baby.

But naps? They continue to be a joke.

Soo I may have scared you

with my last post. But that wasn't my intention. Remember us mommas like to lure in new recruits with chubby thighs and cute little giggles and then scare the bejeezuz out of you when you are KU and stuck. It is our own little twisted mind fuck. That is how we really have fun. So I thought I'd lure you back to possibly one day procreating with some nummy pics of the dude. Because well, he is awesome.

You know what's hot?

There isn't anything glamorous about pregnancy. In fact people purposely don't tell you about the weird shit that happens to your body until you are in fact knocked up. Then it is no holds barred, they share and share and scare you into some serious hypocondria. I had eleventy different things to ask my doctor every week.

I was lucky that I escaped puking daily (I know you hate me.) But in exchange for that I got me some serious Hobbit feet. They were enormous. Add to that a super sweet cankle and the fact I couldn't reach (or see) my feet and pluck the little toe hairs. Hot.

My husband confessed after they had safely shrunken back to their normal cute selves that he was afraid that the hobbit feet were permanent. He was wise to wait to confess this for sure.

Also, I got PUPPS, which sounds all cute and innocent but is really this fucked up rash that takes over your stretch marks (yep got them too) and are all "fuck you, you have stretch marks and now I am going to make you want to cut you skin off with all this itchingess." I didn't sleep at all the week before Mr. Fantastic was born.

But it isn't all bad. Aside from that fact that you know, you are growing a person, you get awesome hair. Thick, glossy gorgeous hair. I could have been a freaking hair model. Penelope Cruz had nothing on me. I swished back and forth over my shoulders like I used to when I was a kid and I had a high ponytail (you know you did that too.) It.was.awesome.

But of course it was just a dicktease. The other day I started molting. I have handfuls of hair clogging up the drain, clumps being brushed out of my head. Annnnd once again I am a freak. I think my husband is wisely biting his tongue on this one too.