...I'm standing on my head.

At least, that must be the case since my world is now upside down. I know I've been reeeaallly slack in posting new blogs. When I stopped working full-time, I had every intention of picking this back up. I thought surely I'd have tons to say as a pregnant stay-at-home mom. Turns out, not only have I not had a lot to say, I also don't have the freaking time to say it.
Well, ladies and gents, let me assure you, I officially have something to say now.
We found out this morning that Little Baby Gilbert #2, thus far referred to as "Peanut", is in fact a....(drumroll please....) GIRL! And while my "mother's whatever" actually already had me thinking that Peanut was a girl, the very second the tech said "It looks like a girl!", the table I was laying on, the floor the table sat on, the ground below the room we were in, and anything beneath that simply ceased to be. For I was now watching my life continue while standing on. my. head. Nothing, not even my own suspicions, could have prepared me for that announcement and the way it would make me feel.
Even after having Nicholas, when I looked forward to our future as a growing family, it always included two little boys, and only two little boys. Even after I got pregnant with Peanut, that image in my head still always felt just right. However, over the last several weeks, a little girl has entered the picture, replacing the second little boy in my picture. And the more I saw this image in my head, the more okay with it I was. Or so I thought.
See, the truth is, before we had children, I was TERRIFIED to be a mom. And when we found out Nicholas was a boy, I was thrilled. As you and I have discussed before, I was not the most angelic of little girls. Granted, we all have our pasts, and they all come back to haunt us in the form of our children. I am not naive enough to think that this fear is mine and mine alone. But, I couldn't help but feel as though I'd been spared a bit in the payback department by having a boy. (See this post for proof of how foolish I was for thinking such a thing...) So, of course, the thought of having a little girl has always been really scary. I've always been afraid of how I would handle raising....well, me.
But, when they told me today that I was going to be doing just that, my head exploded with thoughts that had never even entered my mind. Until right then, I'd always jokingly laughed off the idea of having a girl based on the effect it would have on ME. How would I handle it? What would I  do with a smart-mouthed daughter? What will I do when she doesn't come home at night? Today, however, my thoughts went immediately to HER. How will the way I "handle" it effect her? How do I teach her to not be the kind of girl that doesn't come home at night? How do I teach her the value of a positive self-image? I'm very proud of the woman I have become, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a hell of a time getting here. How do I teach her not to make my mistakes?
As mothers of sons, we know that there is a bond with our sons that is like no other relationship. We instinctively want to teach our sons to grow to be great men, strong men, the kind of men the world is proud to know. But now, as a mother of a daughter (holy bows and ribbons Batman! I'm having a daugher?!?!), I have a whole new set of wishes for my child. To teach her to respect herself and others. To teach her to care for her body, while at the same time teaching her not to obsess about it and let it define her. To teach her to care for others. The list of things I want for my daughter, in many ways, mirrors the list of things I want for my son. But, in as many ways, it is a very different list indeed.
So my confession for today is that I clearly MUST be standing on my head. My world has been turned upside down...and I don't suspect it will ever right itself again. I am, however, slightly comforted by the fact that when we got to see our little angel today, her legs were neatly crossed at the ankles. Good job, sweetie. Keep 'em crossed, you're off to a good start. It will keep your daddy from putting a chastity belt and an alarm system on you. I will do my best to teach you to hold your head high and be proud of yourself no matter what. But I can't stop your father from embarrassing you with his over-protective ways.
We love you, little Zoe, and we can't wait to meet you.

... I quit

After months of deliberation, many sleepless nights, and stressful days, I finally quit. I officially turned in my notice today at work. It was time for a career change. So, as of June 15th, I will be.......(drum roll please)..... a stay-at-home mommy!!
After the Great Gilbert Migration of 2011, I ended up having to work a full-time, 5 day a week job. Ever since Nicholas was born, I'd only ever worked 3 days a week. I never anticipated how challenging it would be to make the transition from 3 days to 5 days. I had been working 40 hours prior to the move, but had had the luxury of spacing out my hours so that I worked every other day. It truly was the perfect balance of work and home life. However, now after almost 10 months of Monday-Friday 8-5 shifts, that balance has fallen apart. I spend every day in a mad dash to get ready for school and work, get to work, get things done, get to the daycare before they close, get dinner ready, get bath ready, get ready for bed.....always getting things ready. Each day feels like a race to the finish line, and by the time I get there, I'm so exhausted I don't have the energy to do anything else. All my housework seems to pile up until the weekend, and then I can't enjoy my weekend because I'm constantly doing housework. And none of this even takes into account the amount of quality time I'm NOT spending with my kid. Sorry, I don't count plopping him in front of The Backyardigans while I cook dinner as "quality time". Effective, yes. Quality, no.
On top of this frustration, it was slowly becoming clear to me that the industry I've been in for almost 8 years is not where I want to be long term. 8 years ago, I took a job that I got because I knew the right people. I knew nothing about the healthcare or home medical supply industry or medical billing. As it turned out, I actually happened to be really good at it, and got really comfortable doing it. There are absolutely things I love about my job. I truly love being able to provide patients with what they need to more comfortably live their lives at home. And if I can do that in a way that doesn't cost them a fortune, even better. But over the years, it's gotten harder and harder to do that due to increasing insurance and government regulations, and decreasing insurance payments. In short, my ability to do my job has been compromised by those who make my job possible. The more I really thought about it, the more I realized this was not a path I wanted to continue down. And certainly not one worth continuing down at the expense of my family.
So here I go. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous (okay...scared out of my frickin' GOURD!) about the prospect of being unemployed for the first time since I was 15. I've been working literally almost half my life. I am actually going to apply for some part-time work, something simple, for a few hours a week. I think what I loved so much about my previous schedule was the balance it provided me to have some adult interaction...a life outside of the home, while also giving me plenty of time with Nick. It will also give Nick a chance to have some play time with other kids for awhile. But, that's not really my overall goal for now. If I find something, great. If I don't, that's okay too.
I know it will be a massive challenge to get accustomed to being a single-income family. But for once, I'm not worried about it. I've spent weeks, months even, stressing about the logistics of how to plan for my eventual departure from work. But now that it's upon us, I feel no stress. It took me forever to finally make the decision to pull the trigger and actually do it, but now that I have...I confess I am totally at ease.

... I'm in love. With a minivan.

I honestly can't even believe I just said that. But alas, I am what I am. And I am in love with a van. (Note: Henceforth, said van will only be referred to as either "the mini" or "a mini", but never "minivan" or "the van". Consider yourself notified.)
Here's how it all began. A few months ago, we started noticing that Nick's feet were brushing the back of the passenger seat in my Tribute. His feet would dangle off the end of his car seat, but he didn't have any legroom between his feet and the seat in front of him. To remedy this, we moved him to middle of the seat. However, that quickly posed it's own problems - mostly with getting him in and out of the seat and getting buckled. So a few weeks later, we moved him back to his original position and moved the passenger seat forward as far as we could get away with, without cramming a passengers knees into the dash. That worked great! Until Nick hit his next growth spurt. Now that his legs were getting even longer, we found ourselves in the very same spot again. Additionally, no matter where we put his seat, it left little (comfortable) room for backseat passengers. There was no getting around it. We were outgrowing our little SUV.
So, the search began. We'd decided long ago, after several rides in both my sister's and my cousin's Chevy Tahoes that our next vehicle would undoubtedly be a Tahoe or a Yukon. We loved everything about them, and were SO excited to finally be looking for one for ourselves. We've been looking for a couple months now, but we kept running into walls. Great price, high mileage. Low mileage, ridiculous price. Great price, great mileage, too far away. Close by, great price, decent mileage, previously owned by a chrome-junkie. You get it. Time and time again, we found the "almost" right one, but never the perfect combination.
Fast forward to last week. While on yet another internet search, I found myself looking over the inventory of a local dealership and saw a listing for a van for well under our price point. I absently said to myself "Sheesh, it's too bad we're not looking for one of those..." Insert light bulb over head here. I clicked on the link and the love affair began. Sort of.
In this little temptress, I found all the bells and whistles we were looking for in the Tahoe, but for literally thousands less. And the mileage was better. AND the doors opened at the press of a button. What mom worth her weight in diapers wouldn't be thrilled by all this?? What mom? This mom. Yes, it had literally everything I was looking for. But it's a minivan! Excuse me, a "mini". I was baffled by the fact that I was even looking at this listing, let alone considering bringing it up to Jason. But inexplicably, bring it up I did. And the more I talked about it, the more I (gulp!) liked it. And what's more, the more I talked about how I couldn't believe I liked it, the more I realized....I really wanted this "mini". So Thursday on my lunch break, I went to drive it. Part of me wanted to love it even more, and part of me wanted to hate it. I wanted some of the mental "shiny" that I'd attached to this van "mini" in my head to be tarnished by the test drive, so I could get out of this bizarro world, and back to the land of SUVs. I wanted to discover that, no matter the level of practicality, this was not the vehicle for me.
All of those thoughts were banished with one press of button. That button being the button that automagically opens Nicholas' sliding side door. With the press of that button, I instantly foresaw grocery trips simplified. Morning battles for independence to "open the door myself!" banished. Life, remade. With that one little button, the blinders were taken off and this "mini" took on a whole new light. It was love at first press. Everything else I saw after that was just leather coated icing on the minivan cake.
So yes, this weekend Jason, Nicholas, and I went back as a family to check out this new love of my life. We loaded Nick's seat up and made sure that yes, he does indeed have plenty of leg room. And a DVD player. And his own cup holder. And in case you missed this little detail, his very own automagically opening sliding side door. After riding in it, Nick claims to love "the blue car". We decided to sit down with the finance manager for some wheel'n and deal'n. However, fate stepped in and Jason got a work call that called him back to the apartment complex before we could finish anything. So, they have our info, they're going to run some numbers and call me tomorrow morning. Even though I LOVE this "mini", both Jason and I are very comfortable with not trying to force the money side of things. If they call tomorrow and don't have a great deal (great as in my payments go down, which based on all my math, they definitely should), then I'm okay walking away from it. It will hurt, and I will miss it, but if it's not meant to be, I don't want to force it. Even still, I feel like I'm waiting on the follow-up phone call after a great first date.

In case you're interested, here is my new found love.

And here is the video I'm obsessed with since falling in love with a minivan.

...Pinterest is taking over my life

But in a good way. Since creating my Pinterest account a couple months ago, I have noticed some pretty interesting changes in myself. It is definitely true that Pinterest will make you feel infinitely more crafty than you are. And it is definitely true that you will waste hours upon hours perusing all the pins. BUT, while perusing the DIY and Crafts section, I have found the inspiration to complete a few projects of my own that I had been planning for a while.
Below is a surfboard Jason found in an vacant apartment. It had been cut in half to use as a shelf, but the original DIY-er never did anything more than start to paint it.

I had it tucked in a corner in our office/guest room for about two months, never really sure what to do with it. Enter Pinterest, and voila!

Here's a close up of the detailing I painted onto the fins.

I'd been struggling with a suitable solution for DVD storage since we moved in 7 months ago. And now, thanks to the craftiness instilled in me via Pinterest, we have a one-of-a-kind, beach inspired DVD shelf.

But wait! She's not just crafty, she cooks too!
In all seriousness, I would say I've tried more new recipes since creating my account than I have in probably a year. Coming from someone who's been in a serious food rut, this is BIG. NEWS. Something about seeing ONLY the picture before reading the recipe makes it more appealing. Like my mouth already wants the food, my brain just needs to know how to make it happen. Take for example this tasty treat that's only 150 calories per slice!

But probably the most exciting take-over has been that of my motivation. Seeing all the pins that have motivational quotes and phrases, or pictures of "success" stories has really given me an extra kick in the pants. I've even taken it one nerd step further and set a different motivational saying each day when my alarm goes off for my morning workout. I'm like a junkie. I want to print them all out and put them up everywhere I go...bathroom mirror, closet door, fitness center at the apartment complex, refrigerator.
And then, I found a couple pins for blogs from chicks just like me!! EEP! What?! I'm not the only one out there who turns to the internet to whine about their struggles??? You mean there's more than one woman out there who is trying desperately to climb the uphill battle of losing weight and getting in shape while trying to a mom, an employee, a wife, AND an actual woman? NO WAY!!
So, it inspired me to start another blog to help keep myself motivated, and maybe if I'm really lucky, to also motivate someone else the way I was motivated and inspired by reading others blogs.
I confess I'm totally addicted to Pinterest, and it may the Coolest. Addiction. Ever.

... karma has found me

And I'd like to politely request that it leave me the hell alone.
It is no secret to anyone that I was, shall we say, a "spirited" child. It is truly a testament to the power of sheer self-control on my parent's part (and my sister's) that I survived my childhood and teen years. People say that a lot, but seriously. If I was my parents, I probably would have found a good place to hide my body.
So, when the possibility of having my own children entered my life, I have to admit that there was a legitimate part of me that was hesitant. I knew what was coming for me. I'd like to also add that Jason was a bit of "spirited" child himself. We were convinced our child would be the culmination of our childhood selves, come to torment us in revenge for our parent's suffering.
But when Nicholas was born, we were baffled. He was immediately an amazingly easy child. From one week old, he slept in his room with no trouble. He was sleeping through the night at 5 months old, and still sleeps roughly 10-11 hours straight every night. He's not a picky eater. He says please and thank you at the appropriate times. He's out-going and friendly. He behaves himself when we go out to eat (mostly). We couldn't understand it. We were so amazed by the presence of the complete opposite of our expectations. Our running joke is that Nicholas is the buffer, the prep child so to speak, for our next child that will surely be the "payback" we've been awaiting.
Well, the joke is over. Our "amazingly easy child" now presents with daily challenges we feel unfit to battle. None of our parenting experience has prepared us for a child who tells us "no" at every request. For a child who replies, "I will NOT put my cup in the sink.", or "Yes you will turn on Thomas!!". Or my personal favorite - a child who laughs at me while continuing to do the very thing I've specifically just forbade him from even thinking of ever doing again.
Karma, you sneaky devil. You had us convinced we would have some notice, a whole new child to prepare for before having to enter the battlefield of troublesome children. You pulled the wool over my eyes, and allowed me to believe - if even for a second - that I had maybe, just maybe, been given a brief reprieve from the retribution that is surely coming for me.
Silly mommy...

... I just want to potty in peace

Everybody pees. Everybody poops. Let's just go ahead and clear that up right now so there is no shock later when you discover that I, too in fact, potty.
Now that that's cleared up, I confess I just want to potty in peace. Any parent knows exactly what I mean. Once your children are old enough to be mobile on their own, you lose the guarantee of private potty breaks. Once your children become mobile, you resort to tactics like locking the door (which isn't always effective), sneaking out of the room while they are otherwise occupied (which is rarely effective), and finally just letting it all hang out and leaving the door wide open (which is always disappointing). Once, when Nick was just learning to walk I snuck out of the room to for a quick pee break. Predictably, as soon as his "Mommy's GONE!" radar went off, he came searching for me. In this particular case, I had left the door open so as to hear any stumbles and tumbles from the new walker. Nick came toddling into the bathroom, walking his hands down the wall for support, on his way to come climb in my lap. Yep, in my lap while I pee. We've all done it. Sometimes it's just easier than hearing the tantrum. Parenthood rocks. Anyway, walking his hands down the wall.....He reaches the shower curtain, and of course doesn't realize that it's NOT a wall. So, when he braced against the curtain, he tumbled forward. Keep in mind, during all of this, I'm on the pot. I had to jump up, mid-stream(!), to catch my toddler and keep him from plunging headfirst into the bottom of a porcelain tub.
And once you start potty-training, bathroom time becomes a group effort. Constant encouragement is required (Good job Nick, you went POTTY!!) , and it always requires a mini-party in the bathroom since there needs to be parental supervision for each trip. The mental connection of bathroom = private time isn't made for toddlers because Mom and/or Dad is always in the bathroom with them. So when I try to go to the bathroom, Nick thinks he needs to be there as well. I get his logic, but I don't much care. I just want to potty in peace. I want to handle my business on my own.
During a recent bathroom break, Nick decided he needed to participate. Thankfully, I locked the door this time. Well, technically I forgot to lock the door until he busted in on me. But once he reminded me, then I locked the door. He did not take kindly to this. For the majority of the time I was in the bathroom, he alternated between banging on the door, driving a truck on the door (Huge no-no in our house...Cars and trucks belong on the floor, thank you), trying to jimmy open the door, and saying my name over and over. Finally, he got quiet and I assumed he had given up and walked away. Silly Mommy. Upon finishing my business, I washed up and opened the door. Only to almost trip over my son, who promptly looked up at me and announced, "Mommy, I pooped."
Fantastic. Not only is bathroom time a group effort, now it's a team sport.

... I am an early bird

It is 7:05 on Monday morning. I do not have to work today, but I've been up for 2 hours. I have cleaned my kitchen, gotten caught up on Gossip Girl while having my coffee (OMG is Chuck dead?!?!?), fired off a few emails, and started a few new blog entries. While I'm not this productive every morning, I confess I love getting up before everyone else. I love having time to myself to do whatever it is I want to do. That may mean going for a run, doing laundry, cleaning up, or just reading a good book while enjoying a cup of coffee.
Jason is the exact opposite of this. He is definitely a night owl. In fact, if work hours didn't dictate our sleep schedules, I'm not sure we'd ever see each other. I'm convinced we'd pass like ships in the night, his bed-time of choice being my chosen time to rise.
Of course this means that I, by default, am usually the one up with Nicholas each morning. And if I'm already up, and have had a chance to ease into my morning by whatever means I chose that day, I don't mind. If I've already had some "me" time, I love getting him up and spending some one-on-one time with him. But if I am woken up by him, and I have to immediately tend to him first, then I feel like I was robbed of my morning. I feel cheated. (Yes, yes I know. This is parenthood. That's the way it is, your kids get all your time. You have no time for yourself. Whatever. This is confession, right? I'm confessing here, no judgement allowed, so hush. And for the record, I'm in the middle of an epiphany as I write this, so SSHH!) After many days/weeks in a row of getting up with him by myself, I end up feeling like it's not fair that it always falls to me to do so, but I suppose in reality what I truly feel is unfair is that I didn't get my "me" time.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear my little monkey jumping around in his bed. Good thing I've already been up for awhile.