Tag Archives: Family

Who Snuck the Hooch to the Baby?

Dear Baby,

Last night after our midnight bladder emptying, I settled onto the couch so Kiefer could actually sleep while I spent the next 2 hours trying to find a remotely comfortable sleeping position. (Which I now know is impossible.)

About 20 minutes later when I finally resigned myself to the fact that I was as comfortable as I was ever going to get, you started hiccuping.


And you kept hiccuping for-ev-er. So I can only assume you’ve been drinking.

You’re in sooooo much trouble. I thought I had more time before we needed to have the Don’t-Drink-Until-You’re-21 talk.

They grow up so fast....

They grow up so fast….

I can handle a lot:

  • The midnight pee breaks.
  • You pressing on my lungs so I can barely breathe.
  • You refusing to move when Boo touches my tummy, so Radley can endlessly taunt him with: “I’ve felt the baby move and you haven’t.”
  • You making it impossible to find a comfortable sleep position.

What I cannot handle is you throwing in my face that while you apparently had an all-night kegger, I’ve been deprived of key lime pie martinis and blueberry margaritas for months. MONTHS!

If I can’t drink, you can’t drink, and I don’t appreciate you throwing your drunken hiccups in my face…er, tummy.

You’re grounded until further notice.


Your Mama

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “If you did not eat the entire candy bar within 24 hours of receiving it, then we can no longer be friends.”—PinotNinja

Radley Discovers the Pun

When Kiefer and I first started dating, Radley was 5. He was a cutie who always wanted me to carry him or let him sit in my lap.


We may or may not have also been into matching the color of our shirts.

And then one time, Radley farted…while he was in my lap.

I told him it would be great if he could stand up next time. So from then on, randomly he would pop off my lap, take a few steps away, fart, and then climb back into my lap.

It was hilarious.

In addition to farting-lapsitting etiquette, Radley also had no idea what sarcasm was.

Kiefer: Thoughtsy, look! A pumpkin scone!

Thoughtsy: My favorite!

Radley: Wait…I thought you didn’t like pumpkin?

Now Radley’s almost 11, and he loves sarcasm.

Radley: Now don’t eat my pumpkin pie, Thoughtsy. I know how much you love it.

Not only has he mastered sarcasm, he’s also mastered the pun:

Radley busts in on Boo while he’s in the bathroom. Screaming and laughing commences. Then…

Radley: Dad, I think I broke the bathroom door knob! I think it needs to be screwed back in.

Kiefer: Stop screwing around up there! (This pun was completely unintentional.)

Radley: Nice one, Dad. I see what you did there. Screw. Ha-ha!

Radley still has a lot to learn though.

Radley: I want to be Michael Myers or Jason for Halloween.

A couple weeks later when Kiefer and I were watching Halloween

Radley: Who is that guy?

Obviously, we’ve spent too much time on word play and not enough time watching horror movies.

Got any kid stories to share? They don’t have to be your kids.

Don’t Poke the Bear

Have I ever mentioned that Boo and Radley were born at home?

More power to their mom for being doctor-and-drug-free, but that scares me. What if something had happened?

Because my pregnancy is high risk (and even if it wasn’t), this baby will be born in a hospital. A hospital that—according to Radley—sucks.

Radley: Will the baby be born at home? Because you know the hospital sucks, right?

How would a 10-year-old know a hospital sucks? And how would Boo and Radley’s mom know the hospital sucks since she’s never delivered a baby there?

Other questions and comments from Radley also concern birthing tubs, letting Kiefer’s ex’s mom be the doula, and how drugs are bad for the little one on the way.

::biggest sigh EVER::

I appreciate that the boys’ mom chose to have her children at home, but that won’t work for this pregnancy. How do Kiefer and I explain to Boo and Radley that we can’t have this baby at home because the pregnancy is high risk without…

  1. Scaring them.
  2. Having them repeat everything to their mother so she’s all up in our business.


We took Radley on a tour of the hospital, and I’m hoping it helped since he and I had this conversation:

Radley: Why is the baby being born in the hospital?

Me: Because they’re watching the baby very closely to make sure everything is OK.

Radley: Are you scared?

Me: Not yet. OK, maybe just a little. But the nice about giving birth in the hospital is that if something bad happens, we’re already here.

I understand that all Radley knows is home births. And I’m sure it’s not only coming from his mom since his grandma is a doula. But as I’m entering the third trimester in a couple weeks, the last thing I want to hear is how the hospital sucks. It’s soooooooooo frustrating.

Pregnant women are like bears. They look plump and cuddly, but they are dangerous.

This bear was at my parent's house a couple weeks ago.

This bear was at my parent’s house a few weeks ago. No one was mauled. Why? Because no one poked her.

Don’t poke the pregnant bear, people.

Any suggestions on what to tell Radley? What are some of the funniest comments your kids said about their soon-to-arrive siblings?

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Oh, another one of those permissive parents who let their kids get away with everything.  If you don’t call the cops for pop-tart thievery, next thing you know they’ll be all grown up and robbing banks.”—Pegoleg

Pop-Tart Thievery: What Is the World Coming To?

Until recently, I thought I was the sole member of Pop-Tart Addicts Anonymous (PAA). I mean, I’ve been the only one showing up for all the meetings. We I bring cupcakes or cookies since Pop-Tarts aren’t allowed. Obviously.

Now I see that PAA has other members…but they’re just in denial.

One lady called the police on her son when he stole her Pop-Tarts. Depending on my mood that day, the pre-PAA me would have asked…

  • You can do that?
  • What flavor were they?
  • Was it the last pack?
  • Did he leave the empty box there with no shiny silver packs inside?


But thanks to PAA, I can now say…

My stepsons eat my Pop-Tarts all the time. I had to get 3 boxes of the chocolate peanut butter flavor before I even got to try one. Did I call the cops? No.

Another man stole Pop-Tarts from a store, and then a truck hit him while he was making his getaway. He must have been too busy stuffing his face to look both ways before crossing the street.

Unless…the person driving the truck saw the Pop-Tarts, and overcome by Pop-Tart addiction, ran the thief over so the driver could have the Pop-Tarts all to himself.

Looks like three new members will be joining the next PAA meeting. I’d better bring extra cookies.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “If that ends up being your baby, Keifer is gonna have some explaining to do.”—Misty’s Laws

The Baby Likes Tricks, Not Treats

I get ultrasounds every 2 weeks. After suffering two miscarriages, each ultrasound makes me feel better about the baby growing stronger every day.

Except sometimes the ultrasounds show us scary stuff. Stuff that other people don’t see.

First, I had a subchorionic bleed. It finally went away.

Then the placenta was covering my cervix. It eventually moved.

But the 16-week ultrasound…that was the worst.

Specialist: Did you have some bleeding during this pregnancy?

Thoughtsy: Yes. Twice.

Specialist: There is blood in the baby’s intestines. It could mean the baby swallowed some of the blood. That’s pretty common, and it’s not a problem.

Or you and the baby have some type of infection. Or that the baby has cystic fibrosis. We’re going to run tests for all of that.

All of the infection tests came back clear, and my cystic fibrosis carrier test also came back clear.

As if that wasn’t enough, then he hit us with this….

Specialist: These cysts in the baby’s brain. It could mean the baby has Down Syndrome, but don’t worry about that because your baby’s nose is nice and pronounced, and your bloodwork came back great.

We suspect that this early in development, many babies have those cysts, but they clear up, so most people never see them. There is a very small chance that they won’t go away. Very small. Try not to worry about it. We’ll keep an eye on them.

 At the 18-week appointment…the cysts were still there.

At the 20-week appointment…still there.

At the 22-week appointment…nearly gone. Phew!

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I’m of the personal opinion that you should always stay away from gingerbread house. Of all of the bread houses that exist in the world, they’re the least likely to have a soul.”—AbsentElemental