iceicefangurl

Maxwell was born in August via induction (they gave me drugs to induce labor) and at birth, he was 9 pounds 1 ounce and 22 inches long, which, I'd like to note, is bigger than Amelia.  However!  The birth and my recovery was much faster this time.  The transition from mother of one to mother of two has not been quite as smooth, but that's life.

So far he's a typical infant.  Cry, fuss, poop, pee, eat, sleep, rinse and repeat.  He's got an adorable smile, though, so I forgive him for waking me up three times a night to be his milk bag.

I've got a slew of pictures but all of them have been taken on my iTouch so the resolution is crap.  I do plan on posting one, though, so forgive me for assaulting your eyes with it's grainy fuzzyness.

Wow it's been a while since I've updated anything.  And the sad thing is it's because I haven't drawn anything.  I've tried to.  Started and stopped because a certain someone who is now two will try to yank the pencil out of my hand, fuss if I don't let her take the pencil out of my hand, and then proceed to scribble all over whatever I've just drawn.  I suppose if I was more serious about drawing I'd make it a point to draw while she's sleeping, but I'm so tired from our wacky schedule I just pass out on any available flat surface to catch up on much needed sleep.

And.  To further cement my retreat from the internet, I'm pregnant again.  So.  I'm sorry to people who watch me, comment on my art, and eagerly anticipate my glorious return.  It's going to be years.  Two small children demanding attention scares the bejebus out of me.  They say the older you are, the more patient you are when you have kids.  UNTRUTH.  The older you are, the more they suck the energy out of you so you're left, dizzy, slouched over on a couch watching your crazy toddler climb things (including you), and wonder where in the world she got so much energy.  You didn't feed her a lick of sugar... that's MY energy isn't it!?  You vampire!  Gimme back my energy!  And then a tickle war ensues, her laughter is so afreakingdorable you just forget everything but making her laugh some more.  Now all it takes is me smiling big and creepy at her, she'll giggle, anticipating the tickle attack, and run for the hills, shrieking.

For the curious, I'm due in September, but we're anticipating another large baby so I'll probably have him at the end of August.  Which is the height of the heat in Texas summer.  Yay.  And yes, it's a boy this time.

Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday.  I've been so scatterbrained and irritated that every time I sign on deviantart (no matter which account) I see the well wishes and, having forgotten about them, they make me happy again.

Life is... life.  Amelia is growing up fast and slow at the same time.  She's working on coordination and pulling herself upright using objects like the fireplace and Mommy but she gets stuck once she's standing and fusses.  Much like when she was learning to roll over, it's a work in progress.  And she's got teeth!  Two of them and she's WAY crankier now that they've surfaced than ever before!  Yay!  Did you know there are 20 teeth in a child's head?  And if two teeth surface every month that's ten months of cranky ass baby?  I love her to bits, though.  It's like every moment I'm with her I realize the depth of which I need her for my emotional stability.  Whereas before I used to fear death as a concept, I now realize how easy it would be to die.  It scares the ever loving crap out of me.  Especially when she does things when I'm not looking.  Like find a large scrap of cardboard kitten-toy sized, but not baby-edible sized and stuffs it in her mouth.  Which then gags her and makes her throw up her entire stomach contents trying to get it out of her mouth because she hasn't got THAT much coordination.  OR find Grandma's high blood pressure and cholesterol medicines on the floor because it fell out of her pocket without her knowledge.  We caught her right before she actually stuffed one in her mouth, but for about a minute there while I was dredging her mouth with my finger I imagined a rushed trip to the ER, explaining what a shitty mother I was, and possibly losing her before we even got there because she doesn't have any heart problems and she's a BABY and they are ADULT doses.

So yeah.  The blonde is camouflaging the gray hairs, but I assure you they are there.

I haven't drawn a single thing.  I've found a creative outlet through crafts instead.  Like, I made a functioning grandfather clock out of cardboard, toilet paper rolls, paper towel rolls, gummed tape, mice-shaped cat toys, and black construction paper cut out to resemble gears and mice for inside of the clock.  It's over six feet tall and gotten it's fair share of compliments.  The best part is when someone makes a comment about it along the lines of "I wonder who made that?" to which I can then crow "ME!" like a five-year-old.  No wonder people don't believe I'm over thirty.

Half of the problem is my computer refuses to keep the driver I'm installing on it so my tablet works.  It'll work until I shut the computer down, then start up and announce it failed to download the driver.  Just like half of my computer programs installed and registered, but every time I start them up they seem to have forgotten this and need me to register them.

Don't give up on me, though.  I swear I'm still an artist even though I have no current proof of it.

Two months ago my twelve-year-old cat, Gig, decided food wasn't all that interesting.  It took two weeks for me first to figure out if he was having tummy trouble that would work itself out, or if he was having another episode in a long list of episodes, and second to get the timing right with work and vet hours.  Once there, the vet immediately hospitalized him.  His kidney levels were up, and they wanted to give him fluids and antibiotics to combat what we thought was a kidney infection.  The x-ray showed HUGE kidneys, but the vet was optimistic.  She was fairly confident he was going to come out of this with damaged kidneys, but he'd come out of it.

He left the hospitalization stay four days later with lower levels, and was due for a follow up appointment to make sure they continued to go down.  Two weeks later (again, due to timing) they were up slightly from when he left, so it was recommended that we give him subcutaneous fluids every 2-3 days for two weeks.  To be aggressive and help him over this hump.  He was eating baby food, though not a lot, so we were all hopefully.

Last Friday, the last day of the two week regimen of fluids, after turning his nose up at food, while I was preparing lunch for myself I heard a familiar wet hacking noise.  I rounded the corner just in time to watch him throw up blood, with clots, twice.  We rushed to the vet where everyone stared at me with pity and the vet, a different one, told me she felt a mass in his stomach, and with him throwing up blood she believes it's cancer.  We did an x-ray and his kidneys, previously really large pre-hospitalization, were freakishly, unrecognizably gigantic.  She said they were two cancerous masses, be them above his kidneys, hiding them, or his kidneys.  Either way, he wasn't coming out of this.

I took him home for the weekend, for everyone to be able to get their closure.  He had started out as my parent's cat - Dad picked his breed (Norwegian Forest Cat) because they were large, and even picked Gig up from the cattery in Pennsylvania while in the state for business.  My Mom was the one to feed, play, and clean up after him while he was young.  He didn't become my cat until, frustrated with the fact that he refused to use the litter box for poop, Mom wanted to get rid of him.  She'd had a lot of cats in her life, but never one who had a litter box issue.  She'd tried everything she could possibly think of and some things that other people and the vet suggested but nothing worked and she was done with messing with him.  I pitched a fit.  We decided I would take him.  It didn't solve her problem - he was still pooping on her carpet, because I still lived with my parents, but I was the one cleaning it up.  When my parents moved to another state, they left Gig behind.  When Cees and I bought our first home, Gig moved in with us.  But he started out as a family pet, and as a family we all needed that time.

Honestly, if it weren't for my daughter, I probably would be a big, fat, hysterical, hot mess.  I'm still a mess.  I've cried so much and so often I'm surprised I haven't given myself a sinus infection.  I say forget about me for a year or so.  My desire to draw in nonexistent and I have no clue when it'll be back.

Wow.  It's been a while since I've posted anything.

Motherhood is just as fascinating and frustrating as it was four months ago.  She is developing into her own person instead of a prone crying poop machine that is just cute enough to make us willing to meet all of her needs  with little to no complaining.  So far two key personality traits that I can see are impatience and a temper.  Both of which she got from the both of us, so it was kinda a foregone conclusion any human being we'd spawn would be a Cranky Pants with little to no tolerance for fools.  When she sees that bottle if you don't take her excited squirming seriously she will yell at you.  I swear the second she gets control of her limbs she will be snatching the bottle out of my hands.

And now I understand why so many people make a big deal about the little milestones their children do - each one means they are that much closer to being able to take care of themselves.  I love my baby so. damn. much. but I'm am also so ready for her to stop pooping on things (her clothes, her chair, my leg...).

And despite my best intentions I haven't drawn a single thing since February.  Not a damn thing.  Though it's a mix of reasons, the topmost being I am trying to win a reading contest at work and I have a much shorter window of time to squeeze in my entertainments.  On the bright side it looks like I'm going to win the contest...