Rule #8 - "Once you pop, you can't stop"....allegedly

I have never been the one who was baby obsessed.

The mere thought of being pregnant caused me to sweat, and actually BEING pregnant was no picnic either. I never thought I would have children, based on the fact that I hate pain. I am a 100% wussified pansy and cannot take anything on a pain threshold over a paper cut. Even at that, I milk everyone I can for the sympathy I can get from a little flap of skin hanging off of my hand. I planned on having children on the day they could just zap them right out of you.

Being pregnant, as I mentioned, was no picnic. It wasn't all bad though. I enjoyed having the company and before he got strong enough to bruise my insides, feeling James and his squirrely self wiggling around was pretty cool. More importantly, I knew that no matter what - this kid had no choice but to love me right away. He could hate me after a few years of knowing me, but right off the bat, he had no choice.

I, like many new moms, was scared to death of not being able to care for him. I could barely take care of myself a times, and thought there was no way that this baby would be fed and dressed everyday. I greatly underestimated myself. Don't get me wrong - the first few months sucked. I'm not going to sugar coat it. "Oh yay, there's a new baby and he's so precious!" Sure. But that sure as hell didn't make up for the fact that he had his bouts of colic and I was home alone with him. When his dad was home, James was sleeping. When his dad went to work for his 14 or 15 hour shift, James acted as if he hated me. I couldn't take it. I was battling some pretty bad post-partum depression. My support was alternating between my best friend and my mom for about 2 hours every other day.

And yet...

I survived. More importantly, James survived. I no longer have to question my abilities because I've been there. And my reward is my 2-year-old buddy who just cannot get enough of me. He kisses me more than I find myself wishing he would. Which is just fine with me!

But the point of this ramble - I'm making plans for baby #2. Of course I want to have my career laid out and this looks like it could take some time, but the realization that I'm almost 30 is making me feel awfully rushed. Ideally, I'd like James to be a big brother by the time he enters kindergarten. Will that happen? Doubtful. But I can hope. I had a conversation with my best friend the other day about how we'd get pregnant at the same time and be all giddy and do stupid "we're pregnant together" stuff...it's all talk. You can do whatever you want in your own make-believe world. But I'm hoping SOME DAY it will happen. SOME DAY Evan won't treat the idea of another child like a disease. SOME DAY I won't have to think about how I'm going to have to steal someone else's kid.

Rule #7 - Nudity will make you giggle, no matter what age you are

This weekend we had James' birthday party. Before the big ho-down, Evan, James, and my 11-year-old niece stopped at Fry's to pick up some last minute party snacks. James has a "thing" for my niece and just thinks she's probably the most important person in the world, next to Elmo. He refers to her as "my" before saying her name and was saying her name long before he habitually started calling me "mama" or Evan "daddy". And to top it off....her name's a little more complicated than most.

Well, my 11-year-old niece also has a cell phone. She's had one for a while, and to be honest, I'm not 100% sure why. I don't really know what I would have done with a cell phone when I was 11, but that's beside the point. What I know she DOES do, is text. She also sends picture messages. So while we're at the store, my phone beeps I get THIS picture message from my niece:



Now I love my niece very much, but imagine my horror at the "spring break" picture my niece just sent me of my 2-year-old son....oh, and the other 7 people she sent the photo to.

Yes, she may as well be working for "Girls Gone Wild". That picture went out to so many people in such a short time, that I had a moment of panic of how James would be furious at me in about 15 years or so. I freaked on my niece and freaked at James. They just laughed.

Fast forward to today when I'm sitting on the couch. James has been in "super-charged, I just drank 10 red bulls" mode all day and he gets real quiet. Quiet, in my house at least, has become somewhat of an eerie sign. I wasn't in a panic yet, however, because he was in my line of sight. In fact, he was standing right in front of me.

We make eye contact.

His smile could not get any bigger as he bunches the bottom of his shirt and starts to say "whhhhooooaaaaaa". He says it really slow to emphasize what happens next. And what happens, is James, in all his glory (and in front of my poor grandma and aunt) just lifts up his shirt and flashes me.

I'm just staring at him and he's the most still he's been all day....showing me all that he's got. All I think is..."wow. This is almost as interesting as when he locked me in the laundry room and when he let me out had somehow dropped his pants around his ankles."

But I had to laugh. How could you not?! And besides...when James makes me laugh, he seems to love me just that much more. So I'll laugh all day for him.

P.S. I know I've inadvertently just shared that photo with the entire world, but at least I'm his mother. I can do whatever I want. :)