Friday, December 4, 2009


Something horrible happened to an old friend of mine last week…something so horrible that when I heard, I grabbed my children and just held them as close as I possibly could until Piper finally wriggled free. I don’t often think about how very lucky I am to have these two beautiful, healthy, happy babies…and it is so heartbreaking that it took a tragedy such as this to force me to realize this.

My friend was pregnant with twin girls…finally pregnant after years of trying. She gave birth to her girls at just 20 weeks pregnant; those girls were just 13 oz each. They lived for two hours.

I just can’t imagine the sorrow she must feel. I myself feel so helpless; I wish there was something I could do or say to help her through this terrible, terrible time, but what can I do? What can I offer that would take away her pain?

All I can do is hug my kids a little tighter, kiss them a little longer, love them for as long as I live, and
never, ever take them for granted.

Thursday, November 19, 2009


Well, my first two attempts at cooking a Thanksgiving feast have been somewhat successful, last year moreso than this year…in that we ate two hours later than I originally had planned for. I did, however, make the same mistakes two years in a row: forgot to take the cranberry sauce which I had so lovingly made the night before out of the fridge to serve it, and forgot the bag of giblets in the back of the turkey.

Neither of which have really affected the dinner, but I’m still left with an entire bowl of cranberry sauce and not enough turkey to eat it with.

Anyone have a recipe that calls for leftover cranberry sauce?

Monday, November 2, 2009

Beckett Ryan Jeffery

Wow…what a weekend!

My little pumpkin Beckett was born at 4:36 AM Halloween morning at a whopping 9 lbs 9 oz and 21.5 inches.

I went in Friday night after my contractions were getting steadily stronger and closer together only to be told my cervix STILL hadn’t changed (I had been dilated to 4cm for almost a month by this point)…so was fully expecting to be sent home again. The nurse came back in and made my day…since I tested positive for Group B Strept and Beckett was so close to being fully engaged anyway, they decided to go ahead and admit me and induce labor. I was absolutely thrilled; this past month has been miserable, painful, and just plain exhausting.

They broke my water around 9:30 PM and started the pitocin drip shortly after…I got my epidural soon after that since we were fairly certain things were going to move quickly and I wanted to be sure it was working when it came time to deliver.

I was fully dilated at 4AM and started pushing, and miraculously, Beckett, my giant of a newborn , was born 36 minutes later.

I feel fantastic…much better than I did the day I went into labor. My doctor was fantastic and helped A TON so I didn’t even tear, which I think is why I’m feeling so well. I’m just sleepy…but that’s to be expected.

Beckett is a sweetheart, and only really cries when I’m changing his diaper (he’s not a fan of being naked). I’ve already been peed on once…although it wasn’t really preventable (I was putting some ointment on his circumcision when he decided to empty his bladder in my general direction). He’s a fantastic nurser, which I’m thrilled about, since I didn’t get the chance to breastfeed Piper. Just gotta get used my body used to it, and we’ll be golden.

Piper’s doing really well; she loves Beckett, and asked me if she could hold him today which was adorable. She keeps saying how cute he is, and is just tickled pink when he looks at her.

I swear I’ve given birth to my husband; I know everyone said Piper looked like him when she was a newborn but I never really saw it as much….with Beckett, I can’t look at him without seeing Brandon. He’s got his eyes, his frowns, his browline, his nose…everything except the mouth (which is mine ).

Anyway, I just wanted to fill whoever in on the details…I’m off to the store to grab a few things I didn’t get a chance to get before he was born.

Friday, September 18, 2009

My love,

We found out today you’ll be on your way to Iraq next week. That’s right, next week. As in 7 days from today. As in 7 weeks from our little Beckett’s due date.

I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotions today…apprehensive, tearful, empowered, heartbroken, overwhelmed. I look at Piper and can’t help but dread hearing her little voice ask when you are coming home. My heart breaks when I look into her eyes and try to explain to her that you are going away for a long time…my brain scrambles for some way to explain to a three-year-old that you are leaving because you have to, because this is the life we signed up for, because you love your country, because you love us.

I’ve broken down a few times today, and although I’d like to blame it on the hormones, I know it wouldn’t all be true.

I know I can do this. I am an Air Force wife. I know I am strong enough to handle whatever is thrown at me. I know I can take care of Piper and Beckett by myself; if I didn’t think I could handle two kids, I wouldn’t have had another child. I know I can pay the bills and get Piper to school and finish getting the house ready for Beckett. I know I can do the paperwork, I can handle the doctor’s appointments, I can even shovel the snow and take out the trash. I know I can do these things, and so I don’t want you to worry.

What scares me is the other things I know: how very much I will miss seeing your face everyday, how lonely our bed is going to feel every night, how emotionally draining giving birth to our son will be without you there. How every milestone he reaches while you are gone will be like a dagger to my heart…because you won’t be here. How eventually I will find myself missing things like tripping over your boots or finding your socks all over the living room. How the little things, like the fact that we will need to buy less burritos and ramen, are going to be the hardest.

I love you, Brandon…more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. You are my best friend, my partner, my everything. I will miss you more than you will ever know. I will be strong for you, for our kids. But just know that inside, I will be counting down the days until you are by my side again.

Thursday, September 17, 2009


Brandon was told yesterday morning he would be going to Iraq next week for a four month deployment.

We knew he was eligible to deploy this month; it was his flight’s turn to go…but they had already tasked everyone and Brandon was not chosen. Then H1N1 hit the dorms. An airman caught it, and because she’s sick, she can’t deploy. Brandon gets to go in her place.

Obviously we’re sad about the whole situation. Brandon’s going to miss not only the birth but the first few months of our little Beckett’s life. We knew what we were getting into when he enlisted…we knew this day would come and will probably come more than once throughout his career. I think it’s just the short notice that is making this deployment so difficult…that and those damned pregnancy hormones.

We’re trying to be positive…trying to find the good points, and surprisingly, there are more than I realized. Although I would much rather have my husband with me, our financial situation will be drastically improved during these four short months apart. It’s already benefitted us; Brandon was issued four new sets of ABU’s, two new pairs of boots, gortex gear, and more….over $1000 worth of uniforms we won’t have to purchase in the future. I’ll be able to pay off a few of our debts while he’s gone, and the kids and I will have plenty of “fun money” to keep us distracted. I’ll have less laundry and dishes to do…and won’t have to shuttle Brandon to and from work whenever I want to leave the house during the week.

I’m going to miss him terribly, of course. We did go to Best Buy last night and purchase a netbook for him to take…he’ll have internet access which will help with the distance.

I’m not worried about doing everything alone; between friends and people in Brandon’s squadron I’m fully expecting to have TOO much help rather than not enough. My mom is going to come visit too…which I think is going to help Piper, who’s little three-year-old mind is going to have to adjust to not only a little brother but daddy being gone too. I worry about her, mostly. We tried to talk to her yesterday, but I just don’t think she understands.

I don’t want anyone to worry about us; we’ll be fine and Brandon will be completely safe. He probably won’t even leave the base the whole time he’s there.

Anyway…just thought I’d let you guys know what was going on.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

this whole healthcare thing.

So, I know that in the grand political scheme of things I mean absolutely nothing. No one is going to care enough about what I write here to overthrow the ridiculousness that is going on in America currently. What I believe won’t help America’s healthcare get the makeover it so desperately needs any faster. My opinions will not save the 18,000 Americans who die unnessecarily each year simply because they do not have access to proper medical care.

I’m just Sophie. I don’t have a job…I stay at home with my three year old every day while my unborn son confuses the insides of my uterus with a punching bag. I love my husband and am very proud of his career in the United States Air Force.
I have medical insurance. My children have medical insurance. We never have to worry about so much as even a co-pay. If Piper comes down with a fever we just can’t get rid of, we go to the hospital. One of the first things I did when I found out I was pregnant was to call the hospital and schedule my first prenatal care appointment. If my husband is vomiting and just can’t stop, we go to the hospital.

How much more glorious would America be if no mother had to forgo prenatal care because she didn’t qualify for Medicare? How wondrous would our country be if every child made it to every single well-child appointment? How great would America be if no father had to refuse medical care when he so truly needs it because feeding his children is more important?

America is the only major industrialized nation in the world that does not offer a public option for it’s citizens. Sure, we spend the most on healthcare, but where does all that money go? The quality of care, the availibility of care, the accessibility of care, or lack thereof, has ranked us at 37th in the nation by the World Health Organization. Thirty-seventh. Guess who’s number one? France. Guess who’s number 38? Slovenia. Above us, Germany, Austrailia, Sweden, Luxembourg, Switzerland, Ireland, United Kingdom…in other words, the other major industrialized nations. Below us, the rest of the world.

God forbid this country misses out on the opportunity to achieve the quality of life its citizens so truly desrve due to the ignorant slanderings of a political party of whom the majority still believe our President is not an American citizen. These people have somehow got it into their heads that the only way to get their views across is to do so by creating chaos…by taking over townhall meetings with their boistrous, innacurate claims…by filling their timeslots with men and women who feel it’s their duty to spread fear and untruths. They create fantasies; one woman misread a clause in the bill and blew it so far out of proportion that children are holding signs saying Obama will kill their grandmother.

Unfortunately, it’s working. The right-wingers have succeeded in creating such a distraction that the people who really do have EVERY Americans (not just the middle/upper class) best interests at heart are spending time debunking these fantasies instead of spreading their own truths.
I’m not going to get into the individual falsities (“death panels”, etc). I just wanted to get my view out there…and let it be known that while I once considered myself smack dab in the middle of the political line, I am moving further and further to the left with every picture I see of a middle class, white man screaming at his representative because he’s too arrogant to shut his mouth and open his mind to the truth.

Letting 18,000 people die each year is like letting six 9/11′s happen every year. How many of those are children? Better yet, how much larger would the number be if it included the miscarried babies of mothers who could not seek proper prenatal medical care?

Sit down and really think about these rumors and fantasies the republicans are creating. Research them yourself and find out the truth. Then tell me what you really think…because I’m done listening to ignorant, conspiracy theorists.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Where's the baby?

I’ve really been making a conscious effort to involve Piper as much as possible in this pregnancy…hoping that when the tiny, wrinkled, screaming baby-who-mommy-will-have-to-pay-attention-to is finally here, Piper will have some clue as to what is going on. I think about that day at least once daily…not only because I’m hoping this baby will look at least a little like me so people believe me when I say, yes, this is my child, but because I’m a little bit (okay, a lot a bit) anxious about Piper becoming an older sister.

Not that she’s spoiled or anything; she’s a fantastic kid and sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I am to have her. It’s just that “Mommy and Piper” have had so much time together these past three years and played so many games of Candyland and went to Target so many times that I wonder what is going to happen when it’s “Mommy and Piper and Baby” going to McDonald’s or walking to the playground or painting our fingernails or baking cookies.

Piper was the first person I told when that pregnancy test read “Pregnant”. She didn’t understand, of course, and I’m not sure she really understands now, but she’s been to every doctor’s appointment with me so far and has seen the ultrasound pictures and has walked to the Shoppette willingly with me whenever I’m craving peach iced tea. I’ve told her the baby is in my tummy, and every week I hold my hands apart to show her how big the baby is now, to which she invariably replies, “It’s so tiny!”

Last weekend we were at a BBQ (one of three we went to…I only had to cook once all weekend!) with a bunch of our friends, and someone asked Piper if she was excited about becoming a big sister.

She looked at them blankly, so I decided to show them our little trick and said, “Piper, where’s the baby at?” She hesitated for a second, then grinned her mischievous little I-look-so-much-like-Daddy-right-now-it’s-ridiculous grin, pointed to my left boob and said, “Right here?”

The room erupted in laughter, which only egged her on, because when I asked her again, she just pointed to my right boob and said between giggles, “Here, Mommy?”

My daughter, the comedian.


Saturday, May 16, 2009

16 weeks down, 24 to go.

People keep asking me how I feel (which is, THE question to ask a pregnant woman..right along with “How far along are you?” and “What are you having?”), and honestly, I feel fantastic. Sure, some afternoons I feel so sleep deprived I feel like I’ve already had the baby. Sure, my ‘girls’ are still super sensitive and I want to die when even the shower water hits them. Sure, I’ve lost every ounce of patience I ever had and last week had such a horrible day I spent half an hour at bedtime cuddling and apologizing to Piper for being so angry all day.

But honestly, I feel fantastic.

I’m in my 16th week now, and will be four months along in a week. I’m thrilled that I’ve only gained about 3-4 pounds, considering the fact that somedays I look 6-7 months pregnant already. I can feel the baby moving, especially after a big glass of juice or a piece of fruit. I’ve really only been craving drinks (iced tea, root beer, gatorade, etc.), and rarely does fast food appeal to me. I can’t even really handle sweets…I can only eat one or two oreos or half a cupcake before I feel like I’m going to puke.

It’s crazy how very different this pregnancy is from Piper’s. Really, it’s the exact opposite. I can’t even remember the last time I cried; I was lucky to go two days without crying with Piper. I actually had to go back on anti-depressants while pregnant with Piper. A lot of that probably has to do with the circumstances, though: I was unmarried, her father and I had only been dating for a couple months, I had just quit going to church a few months prior, and was forced to deal with a ridiculous amount of judgement and negativity from people I thought would be my friends for life. This time around, everyone is just thrilled when I tell them the news…which, honestly, makes me a bit sad.

I’ve found myself wishing Piper’s pregnancy was like this one, in that aspect. I wish everyone was as excited to meet her as they are to meet her brother/sister. I wish I would have felt as elated as I did when I saw this baby’s positive pregnancy test…instead of curling up into a ball and feeling like my life was over, as I did with Piper. It took me a long time to get to the point where deep down I felt like I WANTED Piper. I spent so much time and energy convincing everyone else it was going to be okay that I really never took the time to convince myself.

I think part of me will always feel a little guilty for not taking the time to really grow to love Piper while she was growing inside me. Of course I loved her the second I saw her…I still love her more than life itself.

I just wish I had been happier about her pregnancy.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

So big like a diamond!

I’m not sure where she got it from, but around the time Piper learned all the words to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star she started describing things by saying, “It’s So Big Like a DIAMOND,” with enough enthusiasm to suggest not only that DIAMOND deserves to be in all caps, but every other word in the sentence needs a capital letter as well.

Yesterday Piper and I went on a tour of the local playgrounds with my friend Manda and her darling baby girl Bianca. We’d walk to one playground, let Piper play until she decided she was too cool to be seen playing here, and then walk to another playground. It’s probably my favorite thing about where we live…the abundance of playgrounds within walking distance.

We reference said playgrounds by their predominant color; the one in front of our house is the yellow playground, the one by the shoppette is the red playground, the one by Manda’s house is the green playground, etc.

Anyway, over the course of this two hour walk, we found a playground which Piper dubbed the “Rocket Ship playground”, which was basically two large jungle gyms that were somewhat the shape of a rocket ship. She ran around inspecting every square inch of the jungle gyms, stopped dead in her tracks, turned around, ran up to me, and in her most concerned voice said, “Mommy, there’s no slide.” It was almost as if someone had just told her all the cows in the world died and there would no longer be cheddar cheese.

In a calm voice (in order to avoid hysterics), I agreed that there was no slide here, but if she’d like to, we could walk to the orange playground which does have a slide. She thought for a second, then said, “Okay,” and set off in the direction of the orange playground. A few steps down the sidewalk Piper stopped and said, “OHHHH! I tink-a the orange playgwound has a slide!”

Manda and I both burst out laughing, and then she said to me, “Sophie, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes your daughter sounds like an old Asian woman learning to speak English.”

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Sunshine...glorious sunshine.

Alaska has decided to give us a nice summer this year…and I am beyond thrilled. Granted, it’s still only 50 degrees outside, but it’s 50 degrees IN MAY!!! We were lucky to get 65 degrees in July last year.

Piper face and I have definately been taking advantage of the sunny sunshine…playing outside a couple hours a day every day for the last week (except for yesterday and the day before when Alaska remembered it’s Alaska and decided to be cloudy and windy and rainy). All this running around various playgrounds and kicking soccer balls and drawing with chalk and learning to ride her bike has had an unexpected effect: My daughter is no longer the spawn of satan.

Now, I love my daughter more than life itself. I’d gladly give my life for her without even a second thought. But these past few months have been…how do I say this without being over-dramatic…WORSE THAN THE FIERY PITS OF HELL.

Piper screaming in the middle of the grocery store because I can’t find an airplane shopping cart.

Piper throwing herself onto the floor kicking and screaming because it’s time to leave wherever we are.

Me dragging a screaming Piper out the door of the BX because I commited the unforgivable sin of saying, “No.”

Piper glaring at me like I’m the worst excuse for a mother because I refused to let her eat a cupcake for breakfast.

Piper throwing a temper tantrum at 7PM every night for a week because Brandon and I want to watch a show on TV that won’t teach us the alphabet or how to share or what to do if we’re scared.

I don’t know if it’s the sunshine or the exercise, but whatever it is, it’s given me back my darling daughter that I missed so very much. I can leave the house without wondering whether I have the energy to drag a 42 lb 3 year old out of wherever we are. I don’t have to put up with rude stares from strangers (I’m sure none of whom are thinking, “Oh what a cute little girl!”). I don’t have to cross my fingers hoping we’ll be able to accomplish whatever it is I was to do on the day I managed to steal the car from Brandon.


I’m glad you’re back, Piper. I missed you.

Friday, April 24, 2009

What was I thinking?!

I’m blaming pregnancy brain for my momentary lapse in judgement last week at Walmart when Piper asked for a toy and I suggested a squirt gun. A squirt gun, when we live in a state that is essentially a snow globe…where it is warm enough outside for t-shirts maybe 2 months out of the year…where I have become what is quite possibly the palest version of myself after living here for more than a year.

At least I was smart enough to make her promise not to squirt me with the stupid thing. The only downside to this is that from the second Daddy walks in the door to the second I finally get her tucked into bed, Piper is asking, “Please I gotta squirt Daddy?”

As I see it, I have three choices:
1. Smash the damn thing into a billion pieces of cheap florescent yellow plastic.
2. Ignore the begging and keep saying, “Maybe if it’s above 40 degress tomorrow we can take it outside.”
3. Finally quit being such a mean mom and learn to live with soaking wet couches, carpet, glasses, and laptops.

Who needs to be dry anyway?

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Dear Little Baby Jeffery,

Hello my darling child! I have lots of exciting things to tell you…but I’ll start off with how freaking cute you are! We had our first appointment last week, and got to see you for the first time! This is what you look like:
11 weeks

Look how cute you are! Your big ol’ head with your tiny nose and mouth and eyes and your little arms and legs…I cannot wait to squeeze and cuddle the crap out of you.

More good news: You are now 12 weeks old, which not only means the risk of us losing you has dropped considerably, but Mommy is entering the glorious 2nd trimester, during which there is no nausea, enough energy to make it through a busy day, and the return of the desire for things that happen in the bedroom that I will tell you about when you are older. Yay 2nd Trimester!

We’ve also decided that the entire family will be going home this summer. Fair warning, expect a lot of strange hands to be rubbing Mommy’s tummy…Daddy has a BIG family and we will be visiting all of them. They’re all nice, I promise.

And now, I have a favor to ask you. Little Baby Jeffery, your Daddy really wants a son, and I don’t know if he’s going to want to have another kid after this. Most of that is my fault; your Mommy has become a huge bitch this pregnancy, and considering I spent Piper’s pregnancy crying over every little thing, I’m not sure which is worse…and I’m sure Daddy doesn’t want to go through either again. It’s not fun.

I know it’s already been decided and it’s completely Daddy’s fault if you are a little girl, but if you have any say-so whatsoever, could you please be a little boy? For Daddy? Of course we will love you either way, and I personally will be thrilled to have another manicure partner, but Daddy really needs someone to do yucky boy things like paintballing and fishing and playing bloody video games with.

So anyway, I asked, and this way Daddy can’t be mad if you aren’t a boy. Not that he’ll be mad if you’re a girl, but you know what I mean.

I love you, Little Baby Jeffery, and am counting down the months until I get to hold you.

Friday, April 10, 2009

A list of things that have always annoyed me, but doubly so now that I'm growing a baby.

1. The fact that my basement is a freezer, the main floor is perfect, and the top floor is a sauna…and I can’t do a damn thing to change it.

2. The dog owners down the street who think it’s okay to let their HUGE dog (who, by the way, makes a habit of jumping over the fence and roaming the neighborhood until they decide to round him up again) BARK and BARK and BARK for hours on end every morning, noon, and dinnertime.

3. On the subject of animals, my cat’s incessant meowing as she tries to trip me down the stairs every.single.morning. Look, Phoebe, I know you’re hungry. I know your food bowl is empty. I also know that you know that the first thing I do every.single.morning is fill your bowl with food. Calm.the.fuck.down.

4. The fact that Piper STILL isn’t potty trained, and has, for some reason, completely undone any progress we had made over these past six months.

5. Never-ending chores like dishes and laundry.

6. Cooking what I think is a great dinner, only to have my daughter and husband-who-is-pickier-than-Piper only eat the starch.

7. My mom sends my daughter a package that’s either filled with crap from the dollar store or things that I should buy her as her mother (the latter occurs mostly around holidays, and some examples include pajamas for Christmas Eve, and, more recently, a chocolate easter bunny which just so happens to be the exact bunny The Easter Bunny is bringing Piper on Sunday.) I know she means well, but if she’d open a savings account for Piper and dump all the money she spends on things that end up in the garbage within a couple weeks, she could buy Piper’s first car.

8. Parents who don’t discipline their children.

9. Parents who don’t watch their children when at a birthday party and leave the three seperate chewed up carrots he has spit onto my living room, kitchen, and dining room floor for me to clean up.

10. The fact that by the time my husband gets home from work I’m so tired and stressed from dealing with the devil-toddler that has replaced my daughter that the last thing I want to think about is fooling around. I miss fooling around so regularly it was all I could think about the second I saw him.

11. Previously mentioned devil-toddler that expects me to call her Piper. Where did my child go??

12. Max and Ruby, and the fact that they don’t have parents but do have a Grandma who lives far away. It’s just…weird.

13. That no matter how many times I vacuum and/or pick up Piper’s toys in the living room, the house is still a mess by the time Brandon gets home.

14. I can’t stay out all day anymore. I was EXHAUSTED yesterday after a trip to Michaels, lunch at Red Robin, and an hour at the mall. Ridiculous.

15. My sister still doesn’t have a job, and doesn’t understand why this is a big deal for more people than just her.

16. My mom and I have all but switched roles.

17. The sheer lack of courteous drivers in Anchorage.

18. The sheer lack of customer service in Alaska. Example: Last night, after waiting 45 minutes for Brandon to be done with work, Piper was crying about being hungry (it was 6:45, and we were stuck in a car. Couldn’t blame her.) I pulled into Burger King across the street and ordered Brandon and Piper dinner…it was 99 cent kids meals when you buy a value meal and I wasn’t hungry for fast food. The chick said my total was $8.48, which is wrong. When I got to the window, again, she said, “$8.48″, so I said, “Isn’t the kids meal 99 cents?” She said, “Yeah.” Long pause, during which she’s still holding out her hand for my debit card. I said, “Then it’s not $8.48.” She ROLLED HER EYES and said, “I haven’t changed it yet.” Like it’s my fault there are five signs that say, “99 cent Kid’s Meals!” between the entrance of the drive-thru and her window. So I handed her my card and said, “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.” Needless to say, she did NOT say, “Have a good night” as I pulled away.

Okay I’m done. Maybe tomorrow I’ll make a list of things that make me smile.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Hello little grape-sized baby.

You are 9 weeks old now…in the womb, at least. Why don’t we count our age from the moment of conception? You are alive…and honestly it felt weird to tell people your sister was only a few days old when in fact I had known her for 37 weeks. Anyway……….I’m rambling.

You are about one inch tall right now. You have arms and legs, and a rather large head. Your heart is working, your little boy/girl parts are forming…you even have nipples! You should start moving soon, but I can’t feel it yet. Should be soon though…I felt Piper moving around 15 weeks and I’m told I’ll feel you even sooner than that.

I definately look pregnant, and can’t button my jeans anymore. Most of that is because I’m starting this pregnancy heavier than I should be, but honestly it’s like my uterus said, “HEY! I remember being pregnant!” and promptly started growing and stretching to accomodate a 4 month old fetus. I’m excited though; waiting to show with Piper was frustrating, and I feel like I look pregnant rather than just fat.

Wanna know just how crazy your momma is? I ate half a bagel with cream cheese, two small pickles, and a brown sugar cinnamon pop tart for dinner last night. Oh and a glass of chocolate milk. You defintately have me eating some crazy things…I NEVER eat pickles, but haven’t been able to get enough these past couple days. I’ve also been dying to get my hands on a Royal burger from Red Robin…so much so that Piper and I are probably going tomorrow for lunch.

We get to see you for the first time in a couple weeks; our first appt is April 15th. It seems so far away still…we were supposed to be seen next week but daddy has an exercise so we rescheduled.

Daddy’s doing very well, by the way. He was chosen as Airman of the Quarter for his squadron, and was moved to the Readiness warehouse…which he is very excited about. He’ll be there until July, then he hopes to move to the dining facility as their Storeroom Supervisor. It should work out; everyone wants him to work for them. :D Your daddy is so awesome…I’m so proud of him and cannot wait for you to meet him. I hope you are a boy, for him. He needs someone to rough house with.

I love you, Little Bean, and hope you are happy and healthy bouncing around in my uterus.

Let me know when you want more pickles.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Traded a dog for three fish

We found a new home for our black lab, Buddy, this weekend….and I couldn’t be happier.

Is that horrible? I miss the guy…but GOD it is so nice to have a carpet that still looks vacuumed two days later and to not have to guard my daughter’s lunch while she goes potty and to not have to wrestle with him everytime someone comes to the door.

I put an ad up on craig’s list and a super nice family responded; they live in Eagle River and have about an acre of land AND another dog for him to play with; it’s really better off for Buddy.

Piper misses him. She was really sad when they left with him…so I totally took her to the store and got her some goldfish.

I heart goldfish.

They’re fun to watch, and most importantly, their mess is contained.

I think we may have too small of an aquarium though…cause GOD are they messy. I might be purchasing a 10 gallon tank tomorrow…5 gallons just doesn’t seem to be cutting it.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

I'm back

So much for M-F updates, huh?

Sorry about the absence….I promise I have had every intention of sitting down and writing a new post, but I tend to get distracted easily. The biggest distraction lately is the couch; I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve taken a nap almost every day for the past two weeks. And I fully intend to continue this habit as long as I can use the “I’m pregnant” excuse.

I just looked out the window; it’s snowing. Again.

I’ve been complaining about the fact that my world is covered in white at least once a day for the past MONTH…and still, the first thing out of my mouth was, “Piper!! It’s snowing!!!” Not even in a sarcastic, annoyed, or pissed off tone. I was genuinely excited for about three seconds. For about three seconds, I was a toddler again…thrilled at the sight of snow falling from the sky.

When did I get to the point where I could only handle three seconds of snow-fall excitement? When did snow become something to be loathed…something to take the blame for my freezing hands or my slippery walks through parking lots? When did it no longer mean sledding and snowmen and snowangels and forts and snowball fights? Probably when I moved to Alaska, where there is snow on the ground six-eight months out of the year. I’ll bet you anything I can manage to slip and fall in the parking lot more times than I can manage to go sledding or build a snowman.

I took Piper for a walk the other day. We were bored, the sun was out, and it had gotten up to about 20 degrees that day. We bundled up and still had bright red noses and cheeks when we got to the Shoppette.

After we grabbed a few snacks, we headed home…and Piper walked through the snow the whole time.

You’d think she’d just met Dora the Explorer for real, she was so thrilled. She sunk in past her knees a couple times, she fell flat on her face more than a few times, she tried (unsucessfully) to make snowballs and throw them at me…and by the time I got her home and stripped out of her wet clothes, her little legs were bright red and freezing and I had to wrap her up like a little toddler burrito with three blankets to get her warm again….but she was still absolutely thrilled.

Yesterday in the car, she said, “Mommy, remember when we went for a walk? And I played in the snow?” And I said, “Yes, I remember that! It was cold, huh?” She said, “Yeah, it was so funny!”
Oh to be a kid again.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Dear Little Bean,

We’ve waited so long for you, Little Bean, and I absolutely cannot wait to hold you in my arms. Fingers crossed these next eight months just fly by, because I have already waited 15 months for you.

You’ve been growing for five weeks now, and are about the size of a sesame seed. I’m definately feeling pregnant…I actually just woke up from a 2.5 hour nap, during which I didn’t even hear the phone ring.

Luckily your sister, Piper, is such a good kid; she played with her puzzles and toys and watched cartoons while I slept.

You’re going to love Piper. She’s a sweetheart, and she’ll teach you everything you ever wanted to know, and probably the things you didn’t want to know either. I can already imagine the two of you running and hiding together when Daddy gets home from work…I can hear the giggles in the bathtub…even the arguments in your bedroom.

We’re so ready for you to join our family, Little Bean. I don’t even care if you are a boy or a girl…just come home to us healthy, happy, and ready to be loved like crazy.

Because I already love every little, tiny bit of your sesame-seed-sized self.

Thursday, February 26, 2009



I changed my mind about ClearBlue Digital pregnancy tests, by the way.

Seeing “Pregnant” is much more rewarding than seeing two lines.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Not Pregnant.

My husband and I have been trying to get pregnant again for 15 months exactly tomorrow. 15 months.

Granted, we haven’t gone as far as taking a BBT daily, and I have had a significantly difficult time having regular periods, let alone ovulating (still trying to figure that one out)…but it hurts.

Especially on afternoons like today…when a seemingly innocent trip to the library turns into me staring longingly at the miracle of life displayed all around me in all stages.

I’m not exaggerating in the least: First, a woman about 5-6 months along sat next to us with her son and did a couple puzzles with Piper. Then, a woman who looked ready to BURST walked by us…and the first mother and I shared sympathetic looks. After the first mother left, (Piper really likes to do puzzles..we were there for a while) a woman, carting four small children, mind you, looked to be in the beginning stages of yet another baby. Although, to be honest, that might just be what one’s tummy looks like after popping out four small children so close together.

Then, just when I thought I was surrounded by enough reminders of my empty womb, yet another woman was getting cozy with her brand-new-adorable-bundle-of-love on one of the reclining chairs meant for reading, not showing off tiny little newborns.

I want another baby…more now that it’s taken so long for us to get pregnant already. We got preggers with Piper so quickly, I just assumed it would work the same way with baby #2. And now that it hasn’t…I feel like I’m in a fight to the death against my uterus.

On a lighter side, (somewhat) I did have a regular, non-drug-induced period in January, take a total of 500 mg of Clomid (per my doc, of course), and perfectly timed intercourse with hubby…and still no period. If I were to have another regular period, it would come any day now.

Piper and I stopped at Walmart on the way home to purchase a box of pregnancy tests. I opted for the ClearBlue Digital…since a pack of FIVE was only $20. 5 tests! Yay! I took one when we got home; maybe it was all the pregnancy hormones I absorbed for two hours, but I was feeling pretty damned hopeful.

The first one had an error…apparently I am peeing-on-a-sick impaired. The second, a couple hours later, read NotPregnant.

Kinda harsh.

I don’t think I’ll buy this brand again. Somehow seeing the words NotPregnant hurts more than seeing only one line or seeing one line and one mostly opacent line.

So now, I’m left to deal with body-crippling fatigue and appetite-killing nausea, both of which, unfortunately, could mean I’m pregnant OR expecting the blood to start flowing any day now.

I hate my body.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

"Look Mommy!"

So I’ve been a mother for going on three years now, and I think I’ve pretty much got it down.
Granted, the job changes and evolves faster than my creatures on Spore do, but that’s okay; I like change. I get pretty bored when things don’t change.

That being said, I’m not a big fan of this new stage of motherhood…the stage where my almost-three-year-old can make my face turn a brighter shade of red than the period stain on my chair in a student goverment meeting freshman year in High School.

Twice in one day my lovely, adorable, sweetheart of a daughter managed to embarass the living shit out of me.

The first incident happened at Target. Target holds a special place in my heart. Simply put, I love everything about that store. Imagine my dismay when, after using the handy Store Locater dealy, I found out there was no Target in Anchorage, Alaska, and, subsequently, my elation upon finding out after moving here they are indeed building a Target!

Piper, fortunately, shares my love for all things Target, although I suspect this has more to do with their massive toy selection and less to do with the fantastic home decor and purses. We probably visit Target a few times a month…Piper gets to play with toys for a while, and I get to dream about the day when I can afford to decorate my house the way I want it decorated. On this particular visit, we grabbed a cart and kept walking straight, with the women’s clothes on the right and the purses on the left. Piper was having fun pointing out the different colored purses as we strolled by, and I humored her while scanning the swimsuits and clearance clothes.

Then, it happened.

She grabbed my hand, tugged a little, pointed with her free hand, and yelled in the loudest voice she could muster, “Look, Mommy! BOOBS!!”

You see, we had made it further into the store…and while I was still glancing over clothes racks, Piper was noticing the bras.

I’m not sure how many people heard her, but there were two employees walking towards us, and one of them chuckled as he made his way past us.

The second most embarassing moment of my life happened in the public bathroom at Best Buy. We were picking out our new laptop, and I had to go potty, so, to save my husband the hassle of comparing features of laptops while trying to entertain a two year old, I took Piper with me.

Turns out I had to go number two. Which is cool, whatever…I’ve never been weird about going number two in a public place. A toilet is a toilet, right?

So I finish my business, and I’m wiping, and I brought the tissue in front of me so I could fold it over and use it again (I have an odd fear of clogging public toilets and tend to use as little tissue as possible), and my darling daughter, once again in the loudest voice she can muster, yells, “EWWW!!! You pooped!”

Once again, I was rewarded with chuckles from the other bathroom attendees, while I quietly whispered to Piper, “DON’T SAY THAT!!!”


Sunday, February 8, 2009

long time no see!

Hello all my lovelies!

Brandon and I did our taxes already and got our refund a couple days ago; we splurged and bought a laptop (after paying off bills, of course...aren't we responsible adults?). I'm thrilled, because this means I can once again be addicted to the internet without feeling like a pervert holed away in a cold, unfinished basement.


So, update, everything's fantastic. Piper is almost THREE YEARS OLD, which blows my mind. She's the funniest little kid I've ever met. She's also getting quite good at embarassing the shit out of me on a regular basis. The other day, we were at Target, and while I was looking at my clothes, she turned around and pointed across the aisle towards the bras and yelled in her loudest three-year-old voice, "Look mommy! BOOBS!!!"

I love being a mom.

Speaking of which, yes, we're still trying to get pregnant again. No, I'm not currently pregnant. I lost the baby back in November. I know, it's horrible and really really sad, and although I can't say "It's okay", it is. We're on clomid, so hopefully something will happen. I've been so effing baby hungry for a year's crazy.

Brandon's set to deploy next September, which means if we do get pregnant in these next few months, he'll prob miss the birth...but he should be able to come home for a couple weeks, which will be cool. If I'm not 9 months pregnant, I'm planning on coming home for the holidays next year; as much fun as it would be, I'm not having Christmas and Thanksgiving all alone with Piper.

Life is good though. I'm not working, which means my house is actually clean...which makes me happy because it seems the older I get the more of a clean freak I become. I hate it, but at least my house is clean.

There are tons of new pictures on our website... , and I've started a blog at . Fair warning, I swear a lot and don't plan on censorin myself, so if you don't want to read stuff like that, then don't. I am, however, trying to lose weight again and will be weighing in and such there.

Hope you guys are doing well, and that you don't hate me for not really using myspace for 6 months. :D    

Tuesday, February 3, 2009


Now that I’m embarking on this new quest towards a skinny Sophie, I’m thinking there are some other things I should tackle in my life as well. For instance, the fact that I am angry 19 hours out of every day. I don’t know why…I just get so irritated with EVERYTHING. The cat, the dog hair that seems to gravitate towards all MY things, my husband, my daughter, dumbass pickup truck drivers who think they own the road just because they have 4 wheel drive…even a slow computer has been known to send me off the handle.

The worst part about it is the anger alone angers me even more. I end up going to bed at night wondering where this rage comes from, and if I will one day lose my husband and/or daughter because of it. I lived with an angry mother, and that is the last thing I want for my child.

This is me making an honest attempt at a more patient lifestyle…a step towards angerless parenting (until she is a teenager, at least)…a journey towards becoming a better wife, and somehow more importantly, a better mother. I need to find another outlet for my rage; yelling is not working. So this is what I will do when the anger starts a-boiling:
Come here and vent to you.
Go to the gym and sweat it out.
Lock myself in the bathroom with a tub full of hot water and a glass of wine.

Pray for me.