Last night was Lukas’ first night sleeping in his own room.  It was perfect.  His sleep schedule didn’t change a bit than if he had been in bed with me.  Because of this, I am frightened.  I am frightened that I may have caught him off guard last night and he really didn’t notice that I pulled a fast one on him.  I’m scared that tonight I’ll be feeding him and he’ll have this conversation with me:

"Ok woman, I’m almost finished eating, so why are we in this room?  I wish to be taken to bed now.  Did you not hear me?  No!  What are you doing?  Don’t put me in here!  This is where I take naps and scream during the day, are you confused?  Are you high or something?  Don’t walk away from me!  Ehn!  Ehn!  Eeeeehnnnn!  Dammit I can’t get up and walk yet and kick you in the shins!  Get back here and take me to bed!  HEY!  Why aren’t you answering me?  Are you mad at me?  Mommy?  WAAAAAAAAAAA!"

It just doesn’t seem that it could be this easy after all the horror stories I read online about people trying to transition their children to their own beds.  Granted, most children are older than two months and maybe that is why it was so easy.  Maybe our routine is so well-structured that as long as I adhere to the main parts of it, where he sleeps is not as important as how he sleeps.  We’ll see though.  And besides, he SHOULD be sleeping in his own room.  I put a lot of work to make sure that room looks precious and lovable and makes every woman (besides me) who enters want to have a baby.  Also, he punches me in the face when he wants a bottle when he sleeps with me, and I’m tired of it.

Tomorrow marks exactly two months since the little dude was born.  I haven’t learned much more in the past month than in the first.  The only things new are the fact that it was an odd but enjoyable experience to see my mom go ga-ga over Lukas and that baby farts are still hilarious.  Let me explain my stance on fart jokes.  If you lift a leg and fart on purpose, I will not laugh at you.  I will find you disgusting and forever after associate you with greasy ass cracks.  Farts are only funny if they are accidental and the farter is highly embarrassed or if it’s a baby fart.  Baby farts are so funny because they are, quite frankly, disproportionately huge.  Lukas could seriously compete with the ickiest of truck driver poots.  The fact that I jump every time he poots is fact enough that they are epic and worthy of a laugh.  Oh, and when he poops, it’s also scary.  It’s a sound that shakes his entire body and from the sounds of it you’d swear he’s been eating Mexican food for the past few weeks.  It terrified my mom to no end when she was here, which made it even funnier.

I’d also like to take a moment to apologize for my horrific spelling and typo errors on here lately.  I have to write a blog either one-handed or with Lukas in his crib screaming his head off as if someone told him that chocolate milk would be extinct by the time he was old enough to drink it.  The latter is happening right now.  I put him in his crib for a nap because, I don’t know, he fell asleep on my lap.  the moment he hit that crib mattress, those blue eyes flew open and he looked at me like I were lowering him into a pot of stew.  After every paragraph of this blog I’ve gon ein there and cuddled and kissed him until he looked sleepy again, but as soon as I sit down, the screaming resumes.  So if I have bad errors on here, please ignore them until this kid can give me a break long enough to crank one of these out. 

I realized today that I am a crazy picture-taking mom!  I was never like this before Lukas, but it’s like I need to capture every slobber string on film!  Obviously I love all the pictures I take of Lukas, but to other people it must be like, "how many pictures is that crazy bitch going to take of that kid sleeping?"  There will be hundreds more….HUNDREDS!!!

We won’t be coming back east for at least a couple years.  There are a few reasons to this, besides Lukas.  Everybody will want to see us, and some will even want us to stay with them.  I’m not talking about a couple people, I’m talking about a flood of people, most of whom didn’t give a fuck about seeing us when we lived in WV, no matter how many times we invited them.  It’s not someting neither Jessie or I anticipate to be a good vacation, so we will put it off for as long as possible.  I realize this alienates the people who actually did give a fuck about seeing us when we lived in WV, and I apologize.  The only thing I can offer is to help with the cost of flying out here to see us, but I know how repulsive that is to some.  When we do come in, I WILL make time for you guys since I will be forced to spend time with people who took our presence for granted and then acted like we were such a close family when we were leaving.  Hypocrites.

I wish I could write about more personal things on here, but I don’t know who reads this and I don’t want to rock the boat unless I have a REALLY good reason.  Right now I only have a mildly good reason, and to be fair to my husband that just isn’t good enough.

I was forced into watching Rachel Ray last night because Lukas fell asleep on me and I couldn’t reach the remote.  I see that someone fixed her hair…it looks much better.  She’s still annoying.  Annoying as fuck.  What made this instance so memorable was her wardrobe.  As someone with no fashion sense or, more importantly, a sense of what clothes compliment her body type, Rachel Ray fell very short last night.  She had a muffin top.  You guys should be familiar with the muffin top, it is something tha today’s hoochie-mama fashion almost allows.  She was wearing pants that were too tight around her waist and a tight shirt, as always.  The shirt she was wearing was rouched, so it had large folds in it that only made the muffin top more noticable.  I have no problem with her body, in fact, one of the only things I like about her is that she actually looks like she eats her own food….unlike some other skinny bitches on the Food Network.  There is no excuse for a muffin top, especially when I’m sure someone else is dressing her. 

Dear Food Network,

Please get rid of Rachel Ray’s muffin top.  If that is too difficult, just fucking get rid of Rachel Ray.  I know a lot of people like her and she gets good ratings, but this country is retarded!  Do you really want your demographic to be a bunch of non-discerning idiotic pricks?  Go back to basics, Food Network.  I’d like you a lot better if you weren’t ratings whores and stopped airing everything the antichrist (a.k.a Oprah) endorses.  Yes Food Network, I think Oprah is the antichrist.  How else would Rachel Ray and Dr. Phil be famous if she hadn’t brainwashed our population of feeble minded idiots who cannot think for themselves so they do whatever that bitch says?  But I digress.  I would at least like or you guys to dress your nasty assed "stars" in a way that would keep from being a distraction from the "food" they are cooking.  It’s supposed to be all about the food, remember?

Thanksgiving was a great day.  I got my turkey with the fixn’s and some pecan pie!  The smell in the house was enough to drive one mad with the glorious thoughts of that wonderful meat melting in your mouth.  Now that it’s over, I can relive my experience over and over with the leftovers.  God Bless Tom Turkey.

My mom’s visit was sooooooo nice.  It was so good to have someone to actually talk to.  "What about Jessie?"  you wonder….well Jessie comes home from work at about 6 p.m. and is either wiped out and too tired to even pretend to listen to me talk, or he is super hyper and forgets that I don’t find it amusing when he acts like a 4 year-old.  He’s not always great company, but my mom really was.  Adn to Lukas she was a friggin’ superstar.  If you could pick out what you would want a grandma to be like, that is what she was.  I was super proud.  When she first got here, I opened the door and she rushed in and hugged me.  I was pushing back the tears, but it was so hard not to sob and tell her she should have been here like a month ago.  Then when she left last night…it was terrible.  Lukas was asleep in his swing so she kissed him and hugged me.  Again, I was stopping the tears.  What am I supposed to do?  Ask her not to go?  I didn’t want to make her leaving any harder on her than it already was.  But as soon as she was down those stairs and couldn’t see me anymore, the waterworks came, and what made it worse was that I could hear her down there crying too.  I don’t regret moving out here, but this loneliness thing bites sometimes.

Pictures of the fam, feast and baby are up.  I hope you guys had a great holiday.