Oh, Dear...

Whenever Chase is trying to concentrate on something, sometimes I can hear her mumble to herself, "dear, dear, dear." I think it's about one of the cutest things she ever does, and I found myself mumbling an explicit version of this while trying to get dressed this afternoon (yes, I was getting dressed at 3 p.m.--don't judge).

I use the word "trying" because it was.

I'm supposedly about 6 weeks along but I feel about 12 and look about 16. Something happened last night that caused all my shirts and pants to shrink in the closet. Even Wil noticed it when he came home today. I swear I did not pig out and had a huge feast for the past 24 hours; in fact, it's been quite the opposite as I am already experiencing a moderate wave of morning sickness. I'm thinking that with my already separated stomach that never recovered from the last go round, there's really no muscle to hold down a growing baby pod? Sure I'm a bit pudgier than a few years ago, but I certainly did not have a beer gut until this morning. I was mentally prepared to be in full maternity battle gear as soon as the pregnant week hits double digit, but judging from the 2-minute struggle to button my pants and the following minute it took me to realize that there was no way I could pick up the baby AND breathe while wearing my favorite trouser jeans, I have a feeling that I'll be digging out from the basement my favorite Old Navy maternity jeans by this time tomorrow.

After this baby factory is closed, I'm going to get one of those surgery that will stitch back my stomach muscles together, but not until I have used it enough time to guilt my children with it. So very happy now that the vanity in me made me take lots of pictures of my skinny self with a flat 4-pack abs in bikinis. Have I made you feel all icky yet? Just in time to say good night! Wish me luck tomorrow so that I won't throw up on the Italian Visa person.

Or So It Appears

First of all, I blame my friend Becky for loaning me her cute baby to play with for a day. It was just long enough for me to be utterly enamored with his chubby little rolls, his baby cooing, and constant want to curl up his soft little body in my arms. Even when both Chase and Eli were crying at the same time for my attention, I laughed out loud and thought to myself that it was most definitely doable. STAY CLEAR FROM CUTE BABIES!!! THEY WILL DISTORT YOUR SOUND JUDGMENT!!!

Ok, the following paragraph will contain far too much information for some of you, but if you want to feel uncomfortably close to me, hang tight.

So here we are. I always pride myself in knowing exactly what's going on inside of my body. Apparently not this time. I completely dismissed the late (or rather, never) arrival of my certain monthly visitor with the whole wisdom teeth removal and the subsequent infection and rounds of antibiotics. I was exhausted, yes, but wasn't every parent who had to go it alone? Wil was out of town for most of this month and I just thought this drag on my body was just an accumulated result of everything that had been going on + an active 23 month old. We were on the second month of trying but thought his being out of town during most of the "window" pretty much null the effort (haha, I hope you are enjoying all the euphemism I'm coming up with instead of saying "we had sex." Yes, Dad, we slipped pass holding hands. Please don't kill the father of my two children) and was going to put a pause on our family building progress anyway since pcsing is looming large at the very end of the year or the very beginning of the next. Whad'Ya Know?!? I don't have a firm due date from an OB, whom I won't get to see probably for another 6 weeks, but according to Professor Google, I'm due anywhere around 19-24 of November. Just a month to get the baby's birth certificate, passport, and Social Security card before packing up our lives and move it across the ocean. I'm totally blocking out the whole being homeless and having to find a temp shelter while house-hunting, find somewhere to board my two big boys, and live in the said shelter with an almost 3-year-old and a newborn while my husband is too busy with his new job and will soon be sent to school for 6-weeks. And my car will still be on a big boat somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic ocean when all this happens. Yep, putting all that in a lock box and am not going to panic about it until it's time to panic about it. Panicking takes extra energy and if I got that I would be using it to nap right now.

I hate to jinx myself, but I feel surprisingly good besides the overwhelming exhaustion that comes right after I open my eyes in the morning. No morning sickness yet and no sciatica. I know I'm still way early (about 6 weeks), but it was around this time while carrying Chase that I started upchucking and upchucking I kept for the next 8 months. At about 8 weeks I started falling everywhere because of sciatica that kept me on the couch for most of the pregnancy. I saw my family practice doctor yesterday and told him about my past experience. He seemed hopeful that my joints were already loosen enough from the last go round that things would not be too painful this time. I have the glorious German spring, summer, and early fall weather on my side, and hopefully we'll be able to see much more of this beautiful country and the rest of Europe on our feet and bikes before heading back to the Motherland. I find it hilarious that I, a Thai citizen who's been living in America for half of my life, will be bringing two American children back to their country that they have never lived in before. Ok, I think that was the first time I actually acknowledged out loud that I was going to be a mother to two little people. How weird! Time to find a nanny. Mom? Grandma?

Now I'm going to have material to bitch, er, write about on the blog besides posting cute pictures of my soon-to-be Big Kid, who is still every bit of my heart. Yesterday while I was getting my blood pressure taken at the doctor's office, Chase started to get this grave concern on her face. She kept asking "Ma ok?" I assured her that it didn't hurt and I was fine. She kept saying "Ma ok, Ma fine" while petting my leg. I didn't realize until later that the only time she ever came across the blood pressure machine was during Wil's multiple hospital stay and I'm sure it brought back a lot of unpleasant memories. My heart breaks a little when I think of what she has gone through in her short life and what she has yet to conquer. I recently came across this post from CJane and was comforted by the fact that I wasn't the only mom who felt this way. Not that I won't love the new baby or that I am not excited about his/her arrival, but for now I want to lavish all my love and attention on my still only child. And the soon-to-be-neglected Husband. And the boys, who will be pegged down even lower on the totem pole. Poor things. But we're happy, happy, happy! And if I had the extra energy, I would be jumping and twirling, but you know what I said about the energy. Still happy, nonetheless :).

Here we go AGAIN!!!

For those of you who we have not yet talked to, it is official as of Uma's appointment this morning, Chase will be a big sister in about 9 months. Thats right we're pregnant and Uma is already looking at pregnancy pants and getting excited about the comfort wear. I hope all is well with everybody and Im sure she will post more later.

Pictures for Kun Yai, Again

Mom, I totally missed a very well-deserved nap for this.

And since I haven't learned how to combine pictures from two separate FB folders, you get another slide show. Isn't this your lucky day?!?

Back Soon...?

You know things are bad when my poor husband excitedly proclaimed "you cooked a great dinner and bought me Coke! Now I know you REALLY love me!" Toddlerhood is rough on momma's time management and I'm struggling to fit cooking, doing laundry, and grocery shopping around Miss Chase's standing play dates and fun things. Let's not even talk about picking up around the house. If I should wake up one day and find this place looking like Toomer's corner after a good football game (you non-Auburn folks will just have to look that up and learn a little about our kind of celebration), more than likely I would just shrug it off and ignore it along with all the other mess in the house. How does a 21-month-old's social calendar becomes so much more vibrant than mine when I was in college? Well, the sun is out and the snow is melting. Me thinks it's time to take the pups out for a walk before they start to lose muscle mass. More soon...hopefully.

Sunday Funnies + a Few More I Forgot

This edition of Sunday Funnies contains some of tug-at-your-heartstring moments along with the ha-ha ones, but they are still all too precious nonetheless.

It's always quite a scene when Wil pulls up to our driveway at the end of the day. We have an opaque glass front door, so the boys could easily spot his car besides hearing him getting home. As soon as Chase sees the boys sprinting to the front door, our Littlest Mutt jumps in to join the fray. Lemme remind you that Paddy is about 90 lbs, Brutus is more or less 80, and Chase is holding her own at 25-27 lbs depending on how much gummies her father gave her the night before. It's a battle of who can get to Papa first and the baby always ends up somewhere on the floor after getting knocked over. Then she would see a pair of hands reaching for and scooping her up. He always holds her up so they are eye to eye before telling her "I've missed you today!" Hugs and kisses ensue for all three kids and we live happily ever after.

A few days ago after I got Chase up from her nap and put her in her high chair to have an afternoon snack, she immediately asked for Papa. I told her that he was at work, which then prompted her to inquire if her uncle Brad, a.k.a. the Gummie Dealer, and Khun Yai were also at work (she often asks about where Papa and Uncle Brad are but she just recently starts asking where Yai works and we're taking it as a learning opportunity to teach her where Bangkok is). I told her that they all were at work, however on different continents, and she took a little time to digest the answer before looking up at me with the most serious face and said "miss Papa." I asked her again to repeat what she said, and she pointed to her chest and said "miss Papa." I assured her that he was going to be home in a few hours and was thankful that I was there when she felt a little lost and could get Wil on the phone so she could hear his voice.

When I came home yesterday from taking Brutus to an obedient training class, Wil told me that she had been telling him "miss Momma!" while I was gone. She's also been telling me "miss Yai" or "call Yai" every single day. Skype soon, Mom?


On Friday while we were driving to Chase's first Moms n' Tots Gymnastic class, Chase was apparently cracking herself up with all the jokes she was telling one of her dolls in the backseat.
Chase: Ha Ha!
Me: What's so funny?
Chase: Chase funny!
Me: That you are my dear.
Chase: Momma funny. Momma mo(more) funny!
Me: Thanks, kid.


I spotted my purse laying on the floor with an obvious sign that someone had been rummaging through it when I heard thundering foot steps coming toward me.
Chase, holding something in her hand: Chase happieeeeeee!
Me: That's great, Honey. What's in your hand?
Chase, thrusting a small package of Sweet Tarts in my face: Chase HAPPY!!!
Me: Just because you found candy in my purse, doesn't mean you get to have it.
Chase, jumping now: MOMMA! CHASE HAPPY!!!


Whenever we try to tickle or kiss her when she really doesn't want to be smothered, she will say "no, no, naughty Momma(Papa)!!!" The same goes for the boys if they give her unsolicited kisses.


Chase, upon seeing a picture of Wil holding a baby Brutus: Baby bear!!!
Given that a few weeks ago, he was a brown hyena, a baby bear is most definitely a step up.


Whenever Wil asked how many gummies Chase wanted, she always replied "two!" Since then, he laid out for her to see on a plate what 2 gummies VS 5 looked like, so now she would come running to me from the kitchen yelling "FIVE GUMMIES!!!" She's also added 3 and 4 to her counting repertoire this week, so sometimes we get a request for 3 gummies, although not so much for 4, as well.


We're working hard on learning alphabets, numbers, and colors, and seizing every opportunity to interject a little lesson. For example, while Chase was on a changing table:
Me: Hey, Chase, how many eyes do you have?
Chase: One!
Me: What about your other eye?
Chase: Two!
Me: How many ears do you have?
Chase, catching on: One...two!
Me, thinking that it's time for a curve ball: How many noses do you have?
Chase, sticking each of her index finger up her nostrils: Two!


Playing hide and seek with Chase is constantly hilarious. First she will announce "Chase hide," and run away. The problem comes after she finds a hiding place, because she'll sit there and go "ooohhhh, Chaseyyyy, ohhhhhh, Chaseyyyyy???"


And just now when she wanted Wil to come play with her in our bed:
Chase: Come, Papa, bed!
Wil, laying on the floor: Ok, can you help me up?
Chase, after pulling, pushing, and tugging on Wil's hands and clothes to help him up: Papa stuck. Come, Momma, bed!

"So, You Don't Work"

We've been having a bit of trouble putting Chase down for both her nap and at the end of the day. Most of it can probably be contributed back to her cutting the fourth baby molar and my coddling her as a result of it. Last night she fussed for nearly an hour after we put her down before finally giving up and leaving me a bit more gray. With the monitor blaring "MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!!!," I looked a little more sick to my stomach with each passing minute until Wil offered to check on her (my going in and leaving again normally would set her off even more). While I was sitting on the couch trying not to hate myself for not scooping her up and bringing her to bed with us, I thought about a question I heard earlier from a high school friend I recently reconnected with through Facebook. "So you're just a housewife and stay home with the baby?" I knew she didn't mean anything derogatory by it and how the question was phrased probably had a lot to do with the language barrier. I, however, know that I tend to get defensive about it, mainly because I had a corporate job and ran a department with 15-20 technicians to look after and can comfortably say that taking care of The One is much harder of a job. In the western world, people can understand "none of your business" and leave it alone as it is one's choice to do whatever with one's life. But when you are Thai, EVERYTHING takes extensive explaining, most of which I don't have in me and therefore I am rude. Do you know how many "why don't you work?'s" I got from extended family members and friends when I was in Thailand? To fully understand this, you have to also understand that education is the most prized possession in most families, particularly Asian, because it affords us--the third world country people--a better opportunity in life and levels the playing field. The way they see it is that my parents invested all kinds of money into my education and I'm not doing much to return the favor, which is also expected of any good Thai children. Before I go on I should mention that my parents have been most supportive about our decision and doesn't share the kind of sentiment I'm talking about. Anyhow, I did my best to wave off the accusing tone because I didn't feel like going into details about how we, Wil and I, thought it was best for our children to have my dedicated time with them during the most important building years of their lives before school or how being in Germany and not a US citizen pretty much narrowed down the job pool for me to just those that barely paid minimum wage that wouldn't cover the cost of a decent child care, which would be a miracle in itself if there was a spot, available, etc... In Thailand, where labor is cheap, maids and nannies are the way of life, and I can see how some can think I'm being careless with my most valuable resource. Being able to stay at home with our child is a luxury that we decide that it's worth the opportunity cost. I'm not at a spa getting my toes paint while a nanny wrangles my toddler and my maid cleans, cooks, and folds my laundry. I know I don't have to justify my life for anyone, because I can see my greatest work running around the house shouting "A apple, B buzzy bee, C cwacker (cracker), D doggie!!!" For that I shouldn't have to feel the constant guilt that I do. For that "just a housewife" shouldn't sting even though it does. I went to bed still thinking about it.

Then around 3 a.m., Chase cried. I knew instantly from her tone that she was cold, just like I knew the night before when she cried a different cry that her diaper leaked or some other time when she cried because she had a nightmare. I picked her up, immediately felt her cold skin pressed against my arms, and wrapped her fleece blanket that she had kicked off sometimes during the night around her. She sighed a quiet little sigh, put her head on my chest, and went back into deep sleep within about 15 seconds. Would we still have this kind of connection had I worked outside of our home full-time? Sure, I know we'd still find the way, as the "working" mothers of the world do, even though I'm grateful for a husband, who happily assures me that I'm right exactly where I'm needed and we can thrive on a single income.

I felt back asleep sometimes around 4:30 a.m. feeling relieved that I was finally at peace with being "just a housewife"--proud, in fact. Of course, I was back to my ungrateful selfish self and grunted when, at 5 a.m., Wil's alarm clock went off.