Freddy vs Jason, Alien vs Predator ... Reflux vs Colic

That's right. Milla's got the colic. And I've got the hysterics.

When a Man Loves a Woman

And I mean the movie, not the sweet-ass Percy Sledge song.

So I used to wonder how moms became alcoholics. And dads. Or I guess not "how" but "why." It seems like once you have abstained from alcohol for 9 months it's pretty easy to just keep laying off the sauce. And after I had Vaughn I felt physically incapable of drinking heavily again. So I didn't really.

This time is totally different. I want to drink like a frat boy, binging like mad, and I think I can do it. I don't think my body would come out unscathed, but I don't think I would die either. I currently have about two drinks a night. Babycenter.com tells me that this could possibly impair my breastfed child's motor development, but my midwives tell me that is not so. I am going with what I want to hear here.

It's a renaissance of sorts. Yeehaw.

Baby vs Baby

So apparently Vaughn was like a dream baby and we're now experiencing something close to normalcy with baby #2, or probably even "good" baby. It's infuriating. If I had known it was going to be this hard, I swear I would have waited until Vaughn was in kindergarten. Well, it's only been 12 days ... so maybe by the end of the month I'll have things under some sort of control but right now I feel like throwing in the towel on parenting altogether.

Not to mention England and this FUCKING weather. Ugh.

Two kids might be it for us

Vaughn punched Mark in the balls yesterday and he still hasn't recovered.

MEN

So Mark always has various very minor ailments that seem to just completely destroy his daily life. Not to say that they're all insignificant ... they're just minor and somehow turn into these huge ordeals. For instance, he had a bad filling about two years ago and kept complaining that the unevenness of the filling made it awkward when he ate. It made him quite unhappy and he ranted about it incessantly. Sure enough, a few months later he had to have a root canal on the tooth below it because the filling had been scraping into his bottom tooth. Go figure.

Anyway, right now Mark has this blister inside his lower lip. I've had zillions of these in my lifetime, I swear, though none recently so I can't remember what I've done to make them go away. Probably nothing. As a masochist, I probably actually enjoy rubbing my tongue along them. But not Mark. "Gosh, this thing will never go away." "It's all I can think about, this pain, and I can feel it down to my chin." [As an aside, I should point out that I'm like this regarding everything pregnancy-related, and I am a bit of a hypochondriac, but c'mon, be a man!] Here's the point: Last night Mark says to me, "I've even been putting Neosporin on it for days and it's not helping." WHAT? Just to make him feel like a clown, I read him the label: "In case of accidental ingestion, contact poison control immediately." His response: "I didn't ingest it."

Oh my god ... for being such a smart man, he lacks some serious common sense.

It finally happened

I spilled the pee pitcher last night. Thank god it wasn't one of those one-quart evenings but it still wasn't pretty. What woke Mark was my screaming, "Ah, SHIT!" And then my pregnant ass went downstairs to get the cleaning stuff and towels and then got on all fours to clean it up off the carpet. And then lay in bed, listening to Mark snore, for two hours before I could go back to sleep. This is why I have the pee pitcher to begin with: to avoid going downstairs and thus gaining enough consciousness to never return to sleep. But last night totally backfired on me. Still, I'd say my stats are pretty good. To spill but one night in the whole pregnancy (OK, there was one other night in the fall, I think) is pretty good. Right?

I wore my fleece today

And needed it.