Best Friends

June 15th. Olive's last evening as an only child.

Up until Quinn's delivery date, Olive clearly understood that a baby was residing in Big Mama's tummy. When asked where the baby was, she'd point at my belly. When asked what the baby's name was, she'd confidently answer, "Quim." My munchkin showered her unborn sister (whom I promised her would be the greatest of buddies) with kisses daily, and seeing Olive exhibit so much care for sibling she had yet to meet melted my frosty heart.

June 17th. Sisters meet and greet for the first time.

My first visitor the day after my C-section was Olive. Well, sort of. She arrived at the hospital accompanied by her designated drivers and chaperones, my huz, mom and nanny, Jassell.) Here she is, in the arms of her Jassell. Olive was initially uncertain about Quinn... as if to think THAT was in your tummy? My thoughts exactly, Olive... But then I offered to take selfies of us entertaining Quinn. Clearly, Olive enjoys a good selfie. Here's the nut offering her sister an Easter egg.

Hi Quinn. Unfortunately for you, we are related.

I thought everything was under control (feelings-wise on Olive's end), until I was told by Josh that Olive had been telling him back at home, "Lost my best friend. Lost Mama." Once I checked out of the hospital, I tried to be as attentive towards her as possible, but it was difficult, seeing that I had a hard time getting out of bed due to the surgery wound, was avoiding stairs during my first week back (Olive's room is on a different floor from mine), and was pretty much a slave to Quinn's feeding schedule. Newborn was practically attached to my boobs.

NOT a strange digital compilation. This is an actual photo of the two in our breakfast nook. 

Olive took one look at Quinn (who's donning a Woombie) and pointed out, "Very Hungry Caterpillar!"

Kid is right on the money.

Though it was difficult for her to accept all the changes happening around her, Olive put on a happy face for us that first week. She really did try.

It ain't easy sharing the love and affection of one's parents.

But the huz and I made sure we snuck in quality time with our two and a half year-old.

During my first weekend back, I had the following conversation with Olive. One that involved nose pinching and speaking through our pinched noses. She likes the nasal tone.

Me: "Who's mama's best friend?"

Olive:"Quinn."

Me: "No, it's Olive."

Olive: *two hands palming her chest* "OLIVE?!" *ear to ear grin*

NOTE: Olive pronounces her own name as "August"

Baby girl, Quinn may be my breast friend, but you will always be my best friend.

Olive's been in good spirits ever since the issue of best friends was discussed. (It also helps that two and a half weeks later, I'm also mobile and able to walk her to her bedroom and play with her.) I'm proud to share that she sings "Happy Bird-Day" to Quinn daily (Olive is an incredible older sister), and is quick to tell me she loves me everyday. I'm the luckiest Mama in the world...

Baby Fat

"Cake?! What cake?!"

Ay-yai-yai... The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Olive and a mini Sprinkles cupcake.

Gone in 60 seconds.

I love my baby girls - the entertaining lunatic pictured above (Olive) as well as the one who's currently incubating in my rapidly growing belly (Quinn). I am so unbelievably grateful for their presence in my life and truly can't imagine an existence without them. Life is very good, and I really shouldn't complain.

With that said...

I am having a really hard time accepting, let alone embracing, what's become of my face and body this second time around the block. Only 27 weeks into my pregnancy, I am feeling as large as I felt when pregnant with Olive at 41 weeks. My belly, as expected, is massive. It's the presidential suite of wombs! But my cheeks? Both face and ass are already huge. My already small eyes are looking smaller by the day on my pudgy face, and to make matters worse, pregnancy hormones are causing hyperpigmentation of my skin, resulting in freckles and dark spots appearing on my fat face that weren't there before. I don't consider myself a vain person, but I am a visual person, and what I see in my reflection is saddening. I don't feel pretty.

I want to be as confident and effortlessly hot as the mothers profiled on The Glow and other tastemakers' blogs, but my protruding navel, belly fuzz, National Geographic nipples, neck rolls and ooh, custard thighs have me feeling like a high-speed bullet train headed for Ugly Town. And I can't stop the ride...

According to my physician, I'm physically fine. (A relief to hear.)
So I'm supposed to be this ugly?!

The light at the end of my tunnel is knowing that I'll soon be cradling TWO baby girls in my arms. Double the crazy. Double the fun. What's a little baby fat in the meantime, yeah?

My little weirdo and her cousin, Aiden cheesing it up at Disneyland earlier today.

She makes me smile.

Look Who's Talking

"Always be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then always be a unicorn." 

The little booger is now a month over the 2 year mark and has become quite the talker. (I wonder where she gets it from.) My BFF, Pam, had warned me that this would happen. Not so much the fact that toddlers eventually talk, rather the fact that when they start, they just can't stop. Words that shouldn't be strung together are being strung together and come babbling out at embarrassingly loud volumes. And yes, the phrases aren't always appropriate.

"Mama! BIG MONKEY DICK!"

I stop chewing my chicken nugget (we're at the LA Zoo). I have no words.

"Mama, Mama! BIG BROWN MONKEY DICK!"

Olive looks annoyed by the fact that her message of alert is not processing. The look of confusion on my face, on the other hand, is. She points at a sign with a monkey. Next to it is a long, brown walking stick... Ahh. Reminder to self. Your daughter's mind is good and pure. Mine, on the other hand, is clearly in the gutter.

Ay... Kids say the darndest things.

I Swallowed a Beach Ball

As is typical of my FREQUENT blog posts* I shall open with an apology. An apology for being so darn absent. For those of you raising little human beings, you understand. We have to keep the munchkins alive and healthy (the baseline for motherhood), and it's not as easy as it looks. Look at what I'm dealing with:

Ahh... The beauty of potty training. In the kitchen. 

Anyhow, Olive aside (she's a time-suckage, so a photo was warranted), I have been juggling my day job. Refuge Design Build completed two home renovations in time to ring in 2014, and is now attempting to deliver three more happy homes before ankle-biter 2.0 makes her grand debut in June. Lots to look forward to. But in the meantime...

I am looking like I swallowed a beach ball. 

I'm a mere 5 months along, but am looking the way some women look at 8 or 9 months. I suppose it doesn't help that my torso is like that of a midget. Where else is baby Quinn supposed to go?** Even Olive has taken notice of her mother's rapidly expanding waistline. 

"Mama, BIG."

"BIG MAMA."

"Mama, mountain." (Pointing at my stomach.) 

In the work place, I'm a proprietor of good taste, or well, one of slightly-above-average taste. I try my best to look presentable, but baby Quinn's lil' condo is hindering my usual fashion choices. I'm She-Hulking out of my go-to shrunken leather jackets, my button-ups are pulling at the chest, and my pants... let's just stay I'll be looking into our crawlspace tonight in search of the maternity jeans I wore when incubating Olive. My jeans are getting uber-tight, and the last thing I want to be doing is running down Sunset Junction chasing a button that's sprung from my beloved Rag & Bones. My only connection to fashion as of late is how similar my belly button is to Michael Kors' nasty belly button.*** WARNING: You cannot unsee what you are about to see, so look away if you don't want to scar your eyeballs for life. 

Ay-yai-yai.

Will be posting more regularly in the coming weeks because I've been having more and more thoughts about my munchkins which I feel are worth sharing, exploring, and making fun of...

* Line should be typed out in font, SARCASTICA. 

** That's right, people. We're naming ankle-biter 2.0, "Quinn". Olive's favorite name, one which she refers to Thomas the Steam Engine by, is "Quimby." When le huz and I found out ankle-biter 2.0 would be a girl, we thought, "Why not let Olive name her future tormentor? It's only fair." So "Quinn B. Huang" it is. We've yet to figure out what that middle initial "B" is going to stand for, but are open to suggestions. 

*** I don't have an outy, but my inny (by the way, am I spelling these technical terms correctly?), but my inny is totally flipping itself inside out to become one. OMIGOSH. I'm grossing myself out.

Frying, er, FLYING with Infants

Plenty of yummy mummies on the interbutts have offered valuable pieces of mind on this subject, and I've been the benefactor of many a useful tip. Feeding during take-off and landing to ease munchkin ears of cabin pressure changes (I swear by this), offering ear plugs and/or sweets to fellow travelers as peace offerings (I've NOT done this but know many DIY-savvy mas who have), and taking full advantage of iPads, Kindles and the like ("baby-crack") while in flight (you'd be crazy not to)... all excellent suggestions.

Yes, well, here are a couple more to add to the mix. These tips may not work for your little one but they've certainly worked for mine.

1) Fly red-eye. If lucky, your monster just might sleep through most of the flight. Additional pluses? Should your child cry, you'll find that most other patrons will be too tired to give you the stink-eye. And if they do muster up the energy to dart their eyes your way, you'll find that YOU'll be to tired to notice. And ooh, let your peanut board in his/her jammies. Comfy is key.

2) Pack a familiar blanket/throw and plush toy. Babies are like dogs (I've got one of each, so I so know what I'm talking about), and the smell of stuff from home is soothing while on the road. Embrace the odors.

3) Your monster's under the age of two? Pack a carrier. I live and die by the Ergo. My baby is 18 months old, and roughly 25lbs. When traveling abroad, the stroller can sometimes be a hindrance. I'm not saying you shouldn't pack one (See tip number 4). I'm just saying a baby carrier can be a lifesaver in many situations. While in Iceland, I was able to climb a massive volcano, hike a glacier, and stroll a rocky black sand beach because I had the Ergo. While in Taipei, I was able to take her into super densely populated shopping districts. Some terrain just isn't suited for wheels. A carrier keeps your footprint small. 

4) Pack a stroller. I travel with a light umbrella stroller that has no bells and whistles. When the weather's humid or warm, you and your baby are going to hate your carrier. Having the option of wheeling your kid (and a cup o' caffeine) around is very nice.*

5) Splurge as much as you can on your hotel room/rental. In my twenties, I loved exploring new places on foot. Rain or shine, I'd wander aimlessly until it'd get dark, so decent, let alone fancy, accommodations never mattered much. Fast forward to today, I've got a baby as a sidekick. I relish in knowing I have a clean and comfy home base where we can recuperate.  I'm not saying you've got to stay at the Four Seasons or the Ritz. I'm just saying that a view and/or room service will help make your trip feel like an actual vacation. 

6) Overpack your carry-on bag. If your monster decides not to sleep on the flight, he/she is going to require lots of entertainment to survive the flight. Aside from the bare-necessities (diapers, sippy cups, wet-naps, extra-change of clothes for the baby and you), some entertainment must-haves? An iPad with downloaded episodes of your kid's fave shows. (Olive digs Curious George, Sesame Street and Dora.) A coloring book with stickers that he/she's never seen prior to your date of travel. A brand-new small Thomas the Steam Engine. In its original packaging, no less. (The packaging serves as an additional toy.) Small figurines paired with your sound effects. A favorite plush toy. A small blanket. Goldfish. Pocky. Freeze-dried fruit. (Individually-packed snacks are best, because part of the fun is in opening them.) Fresh fruit (just be sure to finish off your berries before landing in foreign territories to avoid customs issues). Ziplock bags for anything dirty or wet (diapers, tissues, bottles, regurgitated food... it happens). Chapstick (I don't know, Olive likes mine).

I'm no expert on this subject, but I have survived 22 flights with Olive to date. We're headed for Paris and London later this month... and then Maine the next. Should I uncover more "secrets," I will surely share.

* Confession. While I love having a stroller handy, our stroller usage stats suggest I shouldn't bring one when traveling with our monster. Kennebunkport, Maine. Olive at 8 months. It rained a bunch. Stroller usage: 0. Portland, Oregon. Olive at 10 months. It was cold. Stroller usage: 1. New York, New York. Olive at 13 months. It was super duper cold. Stroller usage: 0. Taipei, Taiwan. Olive at 14 months.  Lack of sidewalks and too many stairs. Stroller usage minimal. Iceland. Olive at 17 months), we were mostly on the road. Olive used the stroller once. All this said, I should probably retract this tip. If your baby is a small one, leave your stroller at home. If your baby is massive like mine, consider the terrain. You just might want to leave the wheeels at home. I'm considering RENTING a stroller while in Paris from this lovely service: baby'tems.