You know what I miss most about working? (You know, aside from the adult interaction and paychecks...)

Yummy lunches. With grown ups.

Now that I'm finally able to eat prior to 6pm, I'm really feeling bummed out about my midday meal options. I've traded gourmet sandwiches and big, glorious, fresh salads for whatever mac & cheese is left gummed to the inside of the pan after I've served, blown cool and given seconds to my two little piggies.

But, crappy cuisine is the least of my worries lately. We've had a hellacious couple of weeks. The hubs had to lay off MORE guys (which means more work for him) and then he was handed a paycut. Oh, how I miss his old job. We're both so very bitter about the current employment situation, but that's a whole 'nother story.

A week later, we learned my great-aunt -- who's treated us like grandkids since she had none of her own -- was very sick, unresponsive and on a respirator. After two days by her bedside, a unanimous decision was made to remove her from the ventilator. She never wanted to be hooked to a bunch of tubes. I think we all held out a little hope that she'd fool us all and come up fighting once the sedation was weaned off and the vent was removed. She hung there a lot longer than any of us expected (she was a toughie!), but passed away last Tuesday.

Our house has been a disaster. Our contractor and their subcontractor are completely stumped by a condensation issue we've been experiencing with our HVAC system. It's been dripping through the ceiling and was pouring out of a can light. Lovely. Even lovelier? The FIVE gaping holes cut into my ceiling and walls. And, being relegated to the house for hours at a time to babysit various workers sent out. We're hoping this latest "fix" actually rectifies the issue, but we're not too positive about it. Even the contractors don't seem too convinced this will work. I'm just ready to have my house back -- both to its original state and to ourselves.

The hubs and I have always experienced jags of bad luck followed by stretches of good (well, decent...we've never been lucky). So, we thought after thing.after.thing. going wrong, perhaps some good stuff was in store for us. But, now we've just found out my grandpa -- Thing 1's namesake and my most favorite person in the universe -- has cancer. UGH.

We did, however, have a good ultrasound last Friday. Baby Tres looks healthy and was super cute during the sonogram. Yay! The tech seemed pretty confident in a gender guess, but we opted not to find out, sticking to our "Team Green" stance. However, I'm nubsessed! Evidently, all babies have "nubs" (penis-like protrusions) in the late first and early second trimesters. But, you can supposedly determine the gender by the "angle of the dangle." I can't stop trying to figure it out (based on the last two pics)! I don't think it's definitive either way, so I guess that's good since we want to be surprised, but I'm driving myself nuts! My husband doesn't think I'll be able to hold out at the next ultrasound (he may be right, but we're really going to try!)

(S)he's already super cute!

Add Another Excuse to the List

I didn't fully disclose why I've been such a (bigger) hot mess of a housewife the other day. We weren't completely public yet. But, we heard a strong heartbeat Friday, so I can finally share that we're expecting Thing 3!

This child is a body ravaging little stinker. So, on top of my inherent laziness, I'm now battling exhaustion and all-day sickness (who was the dumbass who came up with the term "morning" sickness anyway? A guy, no doubt.) The less I sleep and more I try to do, the sicker I get. Between the two kids and my slothiness, the house is now a state I never imagined was even possible.

After making the announcement to friends and family, I've heard all those fun pregnancy-isms people think are appropriate to make. Somehow, I'd forgotten how tactless people can be since my last pregnancy two years ago. After four pregnancies (one that ended in an early miscarriage), I feel I'm sort-of a semi expert on what's appropriate -- and more importantly, what's NOT -- to say to a pregnant woman and I thought I'd share:

DO say you're excited for the couple/the pregnancy is great news.
DO NOT ask if the pregnancy was planned.

DO tell mom she looks great.
DO NOT say "oh, wow! The flabby belly makes sense now."

DO say the baby is a blessing.
DO NOT insinuate in any way, shape or form that the baby better be of a certain gender.

DO have fun making guesses on the gender.
DO NOT justify these guesses with reasons such as "your butt has gotten quite wide, so you must be having a girl" or "cankles mean you're having a boy" or "my sister's nose got big like that when she had her son" or any other rationalizations that include commenting on the mother's physical appearance (unless, as I mentioned before, you're going to say she looks great.)

DO feel free to ask mom when she's due.
DO NOT gasp, pull a face, allow your jaw to drop, ask "are you SURE?" or "is it twins?" or act incredulous when a woman's due date is much farther off than you suspected. What you are saying with this behavior is that she is HUGE. And, that, my friends? Is just rude.

DO share how magical motherhood is.
DO NOT share your horrific birth story. Feel free to share the horrors of pregnancy with teens in an effort to stave off unplanned pregnancies, but don't try to freak out a woman who is already pregnant -- and will therefore have to experience a birth of some sort -- with your tales of 4th degree tears or a botched c-section.

DO ask if she knows -- or will find out -- what she's having.
DO NOT insist she's out of her mind for the choice she's made. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're so glad you were surprised. Or, so what? You "needed" to know so you could plan. Well, good for YOU. She and her husband will make their own decision.

Other tips:
-do NOT touch her belly. You may ask, but please don't fondle anyone, pregnant or not, unsolicited.
-do NOT tell her she can't eat ________.
-do NOT ask if the pregnancy is "natural." Why is it your business if she used fertility treatments?
-do NOT wear strong perfume in her presence if you can help it.

At this point, I'm not really even bothered anymore by the where-the-eff-are-your-manners questions anymore (other than the ones related to making me feel like it's punishment to have two boys, let alone THREE. Those get me all steamed up.) But, maybe these little tips will keep you from annoying your friend/co-worker/sister/cousin/bank teller/etc. Because pregnant women are already on edge. They don't need any stupid comments to push them over the edge.

Momographer = FAIL

You'd probably think since I'm a photographer that I have just TONS of photos of my own kids.

Wrong.

I rarely snap photos of my boys, whether posed or not. I used to, but I think we all got tired of the inevitable sweat, frustration and tears that would ensue every time I opened my camera bag. Taking photos of kids isn't an easy task. Taking photos of your own kids is damn near impossible. They KNOW they don't have to listen -- they spend all day defying you. You don't have the same level of patience with them as you do children you don't have to spend all day day feeding, clothing and wiping the butts of. And, you don't have the luxury of an extra set of hands to wrangle the subject(s).

I knew what I was getting into, but it had been months. So, I decided to brave a mini session with the boys today. We were relegated to the house due to rain and a date with contractors to tear up our ceiling and wall, so we didn't have much else better to do.

There was definitely frustration. There was sweat. There were tears. There were bribes. But, we got some decent shots (more of Thing 1, of course...he's more bribeable. And forget about a shot of them together. PFFFFT. That's the holy grail of a photo I've been after since Thing 2 arrived on earth!)

These Are a Few of my Favorite Things...

For as stressful as staying home is, it's mostly rewarding. I mean, if I worked, I would miss things like:

• watching Thing 1 & Thing 2 chase each other around the house, giggling gleefully.
• catching episodes of "Baby Story," "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" and "Ellen" while the boys nap.
• having playdates with fab friends and their adorable kids.
• hearing Thing 1 tell me that song on the radio is "his jam" and watching him dance to it.
• getting tons of random cuddles during the day.
• being told I'm Thing 1's "bess fwend."
• having the freedom to go to Target as often as I please (*cough*multiple.times.a.week*cough*)...and therefore getting killer clearance deals quite often, thanks to my rack-stalking.
• getting to wear sweat pants daily (and saving money by not having to buy career-wear!)
• sleeping in until the ripe hour of 7am.
• being able to stay inside on yucky days.
• playing trains with my little dudes.
• enjoying all the little moments.

Of course, my days are also filled with multiple melt-downs and sass to spare, but it's cool. The fun stuff makes up for it.

Martha Stewart, I am not.

You know those girls who dream about one day being a cute little housewife and stay-at-home mom?

That's not me.

Did I fantasize about being a wife? Absolutely. And there was nothing I wanted more than to be a mother. But, I always saw myself having a successful career. I didn't daydream about lace-trimmed aprons -- I imagined myself in sleek business suits.

After my first son was born, I realized that working full-time wasn't for me. But, on the flip side, being home full-time wasn't my scene either. I somehow was graced with the good fortune of having the best of both worlds -- I landed a part-time gig and it was a job I loved. I was home more than I worked, but I loved that I got to be challenged to be creative, interact with other adults and, of course, wear my snappy get-ups. My second son was born while I was employed there and it remained an ideal situation -- especially since Thing 2 is more than a bit challenging. He's been riddled with issue after issue since birth and there's no way I could have held down a full-time job while trying to figure out and care for him. And my job gave me just the escape and break I needed 2.5 days a week.

It should have come as no surprise in this economy (especially considering I was only part-time and our "team" could obviously function without me, since they had done so for several years prior to my coming on) when I was laid off in March. But, honestly, I'm still a bit lost. Somehow, I was able to keep the house running much more efficiently when I wasn't in it all day. I guess I had to manage my time better? I think my poor (delusional) husband had visions of me making his lunch every morning and coming home to a clean home and hot meal every night. (and I may or may not have planted the seeds of those delusions when we'd have discussions about me possibly staying home in the future...) The truth is? I kind-of suck at this stay-at-home mom/housewife thing. My two tiny tornadoes undo everything I try to accomplish during the day. My toddler is a trainwreck who requires more attention than any child I've ever known. I never cook and I believe I've made my husband a lunch twice since I was laid off.

In my defense, I also try and keep my formerly-side-but-now-sole-source-of-income photography business running smoothly.

But, excuses aside, I just really am a hot do MESS tic. Not "hot" as in I think I'm sexy. (hold on just one moment while I work the stitch in my side I just developed from laughing at the thought of my referring to myself as "hot-as-in-attractive." Frick. I'm lucky if my unstyled hair even makes into a ponytail. I haven't worn my contacts in months. And makeup? Ha! None on this mug.) Anyway, back to the point. I'm one hot mess who fell into this role of being domestic. Get it? Clever, right? They should have kept me at that job, no? I'm quick as a whip!

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE spending time with my boys. And my house is clean...it's just rarely neat. I do, however, envy the likes of those who can keep it all together because that's something I'm still trying to figure out how to do.

If you know me, you'll be able to catch updates of our crazy life here and, of course, pictures of the kids. If you don't know me, you can laugh and/or cringe as I try to muddle my way through figuring out this home-all-the-time thing. (and for those of you who followed my old blog -- this will replace it. #1. I have no extra time to maintain yet another blog and #2. Some creepy creeper was all up in my biz on the other and it will soon be taken down.)