Sorry about that.

I actually read a blog post (I’m not linking to it) earlier this week about whether or not bloggers should obligate themselves to letting their readers know when and possibly why they are taking blog-vacations.  Well….that post PISSED ME THE HELL OFF.  Not the actual content to be exact (why should it?  It had a good point or two in there, not that I’m buying into any of it) but the TONE that the author used.  She actually wrote another post in which she was expressing a bit of irritation over a bad comment (not made by me! But I won’t begrudge a blogger a chance to complain about a negative comment. They suck!) on that post and she said something along the lines of,”Well if you don’t want to be considerate and giving, then fine!”

Fuck that lady.  I’m sure she’s nice in real life and a wonderful writer, but fuck that lady.

I have my reasons, my reasons are good, and although I really like all of you who come to read this blog, my personal life is my own.  My struggles are my own goddamned business.

And besides, my lovely readers, if you want to talk with me or ask why the hell I’m not writing, feel free to ask. I have a contact email, I have a Twitter account as well as a Facebook and Google+ account.  I’m not hard to find if you want to chastise me for being a lazy blogger.  Surely nobody is intimidated by me and my little ol’ blog.

A little ol’ blog that I still love dearly.

But enough of that.  Who wants to see pictures of my babies?  (You had better ALL raise your hands!)

I’ve had two birthdays, and trick-or-treating go on over here, so I’ve got some great pics!

Since Lukas’ actual birthday and his birthday party were on different days, he only got one toy on his actual birthday.  He was pretty happy with his toy leaf blower.  If only it were real.  Seriously, you should see my yard!

I love this picture of Lukas wearing his Angry Birds hat.  This was taken at his birthday party, and you bet your ass it was Spongebob themed!  Viva la Sponge!

This is my baby Ruegen on his first birthday.

He wasn’t as messy as his brother was with his first birthday cake, but I still got an epic picture!

Lukas actually picked out this costume.  He passed up all of the brand-name costumes so he could be a monster.  I was so freaking proud!

FUZZY BLUE DRAGON!  FUZZY BLUE DRAGON!  FUZZY BLUE DRAGON!

Fuzzy Blue Dragon waiting patiently while Swamp Monster gets his wardrobe malfunction fixed.

This is the best picture I got of Fuzzy Blue Dragon and Swamp Monster together.  All the others look like Swamp Monster is trying to eat Fuzzy Blue Dragon.

And now I will end this out-of-the-blue-not-so-pleasant-in-the-beginning post and go back to my hole.  I’d like to say I’ll post more often, but you know the song by now, don’t you?  Thanks for hanging around.

Lately the subject of gender has been extremely interesting to him.  He stands by as I change his little brother’s diapers and exclaims loudly about Ruegen’s winky (as well as to the horrendous nature of the shits that baby has a talent of producing).

“Mommy!  Ruegen has a winky!” He says to me.

“Yes he does.  That is because he is a boy.”  I reply.

“I have a winky too!  I am a boy!” He says proudly.

“Yes.  That is correct, baby.”  I say.

“And Daddy has a winky too!  Daddy’s winky is really big!”  He says.

“Just don’t let Daddy hear you say that or I’ll never hear the end of it.” I reply.

“And Grandpa has a winky because he’s a boy!”

I start to fidget.

“Errr, yes.  That’s right.” I reply.

Then the subject of my beloved androgynous friend comes up.

“And Ashwee has a winky!  Ashwee is a boy!”  He says.

“No, no.  Aschlie is a girl.  She just looks like a boy.”  I say, trying to give a simple answer because he is only almost 4 and I don’t know how to explain it in a way that the subject deserves without making him run away at the length of the explanation.

“…..Ashwee doesn’t have a winky?” He asks.

“No, baby.  Aschlie is a girl.  Girls don’t have winkies.”  I say.

“I know, Mommy!  You don’t have a winky!  You have big boobies!”  He says, pointing and laughing.

Someday I will have to have a discussion with him about gender, gender identities, and sexuality.  In a way, I am thankful for his Aunt Aschlie because she is someone he loves very much and she will be a reason for him not to see androgyny or homosexuality as something weird or odd.  It will just be someone being who they are.

I tried to end this with a super cute picture of Lukas and Aschlie together, but I only have two pictures of them together and they are facing away from me looking out of a door.  This needs to be fixed!

Untitled from Somer Canon on Vimeo.

And now a story about Lukas:

We all had some sort of horribly virulent cold/flu.  It lasted for almost 4 weeks.  During this time, Lukas found it amusing to keep removing his socks when downstairs in the family room and running around bare-foot.  If we had carpet this would not bother me, but we have stone and hardwood floors and this house is old and drafty.  So I gave him a talking-to about not taking his sock off anymore and made him understand that bare-feet in cold weather is a very bad thing.

The next morning, I awoke to my adorable three year-old standing next to my bed staring at me.  He was totally nude with his blankey wrapped around his neck like a super hero cape.  I sat up and asked why he was naked.  He smiled a huge smile and said,
“Look, Mommy!”

He had stripped himself totally naked, but had had the presence of mind to put socks on.

Jessie wanted brownies.  I made an ungodly huge batch of homemade brownies and as I was preparing them, Lukas came into the kitchen and asked ever so politely, “Mommy, can I lick the spoon?”  Of course he can lick the spoon!  I gave him my whisk and sent him into the dining room.  I was slightly alarmed by how quiet it was in there.  As any of you who have dealt with a toddler know, silence means catastrophe 9 times out of 10.  So I peeked around the corner to see him standing on a chair happily licking the whisk and was completely covered in brownie batter.  It was in his hair, all over his face, on his feet (how??) and all over the chair he was standing on.  I was standing there looking at him and he notices me and says, “This is a great breakfast, Mommy!”  It was 7 p.m. but his innocent voice and that sweet declaration just caused me to have a great giggle.

Today I was trying to get a good picture of Lukas and Ruegen together.  Lukas was not having it and just lost it.  Being a horrible person, I snapped a picture anyway.  But I felt bad that he wasn’t happy at having his picture taken so I did what any semi-sane mother of a toddler would do.  I started yelling “EASTER BUNNY!”  Nothing else.  There I am, huge camera in front of my face yelling “EASTER BUNNY!” at my children.

It made the little stinker smile.  Ruegen, however remained stoic and looked as if he were trying to ignore our very existence.

The funniest thing Lukas did today involved his kitty keyboard.  For Christmas, Santa (ahem!) brought him a musical keyboard that looks like a smiling cat.  It plays in different tunes including meowing kitties and has a function that plays songs.  Today we got stuck on the Hokey Pokey and had a lot of fun singing it and dancing.  The problem, was that the keyboard only plays two verses of the song so we could only ever get our arms in.  He would keep pushing the button that would go through the songs and he was getting frustrated at having to go through so many songs before getting to the Hokey Pokey.  Finally he stood up over the keyboard and yelled down to it, “GIMME DA HOKEY POKEY!!!”

I had stitches from laughing over that one.  I had a good laugh again when I was trying to tell the story to Jessie putting as much emphasis on “GIMME DA HOKEY POKEY!” as I could.  He smiled and looked at me like I was a loon.  Whatever, it was funny!

Even Ruegen laughed.

I hear my 3 year-old leave his bedroom and go downstairs on his own to watch some TV by himself before the baby wakes up.

The baby wakes up.  I can hear him on the monitor, not crying but cooing.  This is the highlight of my day.

I get out of bed and head to the kitchen to make a bottle.  The 3 year-old hears me and runs upstairs to me and demands candy.  I tell him no.  His bottom lip protrudes and he says in his sweetest voice, “pweeze?”  I again tell him no.  He stomps angrily behind me as I head to the baby’s room.

We both greet the baby and giggle when he smiles up at us.  I pick up the baby and we both go to the rocking chair.  As I feed him, the 3 year-old shakes rattles and squeaks squeaky toys in the baby’s face trying to get a reaction.  The baby’s face starts to crumple.  I explain to the 3 year-old that the baby is trying to eat and the noises are bothering him right now.  The 3 year-old has a tantrum and makes the baby cry.  I scold the 3 year-old and calm the baby.  The baby resumes eating and the 3 year-old brings in a toy of his own and plays on the floor while the baby eats.

It’s time to change the morning diaper.  The 3 year-old fetches a clean diaper and waits in great anticipation to see what horrors await us in the morning diaper.  I change and clothe the baby and put him in his swing.  The 3 year-old uses the bathroom all by himself, takes off his jammies and puts them in his hamper.  Then I get him dressed and take him downstairs for his breakfast.  He informs me what he would like and I fulfill his wish.  He eats his gummy vitamins and enjoys his breakfast.

As the day wears on, I put the baby down for his first nap of the day.  I quietly go to my bedroom and try to get a workout in while the toddler is keeping himself busy with toy cars or his play kitchen.  Halfway through the workout he comes blazing into my room like a tornado.  He is being noisy and I warn him to be quiet so as not to wake the baby.  Tantrum.  I go about my workout routine and all the while keep a constant eye on him.  I yell at him for licking the cat.  Tantrum.  He finally gets into my bed and watches me workout quietly.  When I am done, I kiss his temple and thank him for being good.  I feed him lunch.

With the 3 year-old fed and happily playing in his room, I go to take a shower.  As soon as I am naked, the baby starts crying.  I put on a robe, make a bottle and feed the baby.  I put him back in his crib and turn up the baby monitor so I can hear him while in the shower.  He screams the whole time.   I jump out of the shower, dress myself as fast as I can (which is not very fast since I was in such a big hurry I forgot to dry off) and go to the baby.  I scoop him up and snuggle him until he is calm.  We all play together in the family room until it is time to start dinner.

The baby is good enough to sit quietly in his swing.  The 3 year-old insists on helping with dinner.  The words, “Don’t touch that, it is VERY hot” are uttered several hundred times during the preparation of dinner.

The husband comes home.  We eat dinner as a family.

It is time for the 3-year old to have a bath.  The husband takes care of that while I clean up after dinner.  When I am finished, I cuddle the baby for a bit before I read the 3 year-old a book before bed.  I kiss him and snuggle him in and close the door.  He is quiet all night.  Not long after, I feed the baby again and put him down.  He will sleep through the night.  On this, I am lucky.

The husband and I watch a movie together.  We go to bed.  He showers and we snuggle in for the night.

In the middle of the night he kicks me in his sleep and gives me a charlie horse.  I mumble to myself and briefly consider dumping cold water on his head.  Instead I rub the sore spot and go back to sleep.  A couple of hours later, he jerks in his sleep so hard that he dislodges a support under the bed causing a great *THUMP* to echo through the house.  I jump approximately 15 feet in the air and both kids wake up.  Again, I consider dumping water on the husband’s head but instead go to my kids.  I soothe and kiss the 3 year-old and rock the baby.  It takes about an hour to get them both back to sleep.  I get back into bed and go back to sleep.

It’s the weekend and the 3-year old comes into our room and whispers in my face to wake up.  He is scared of his father’s breathing mask for his sleep apnea.  I roll over and gently elbow my husband in the ribs and inform him that his son would like to snuggle.  The husband sits up, removes his mask, and puts the 3 year-old between the two of us.  I turn on the TV and we watch for a bit before the baby wakes up.  I make a bottle and bring the baby to bed.  We all snuggle in bed for about 2 minutes before the hyper 3 year-old starts jumping up and down on the bed.  The husband has fallen back asleep and the jumping does not wake him up.  The 3 year-old sits on his face.  He still doesn’t move.  I get up with the baby and go downstairs.

Not long after, the husband comes downstairs with the 3 year-old.

“I slept great last night!”  He says.  “What’s for breakfast?”

If you ever wonder why I smile so much or why I am easy to laugh, now you know.  I have a great life, charlie horses and all.

Anyhow, I decided to give my kids a break and share with you the cuteness of my cats.  We used to have 4 but now there are three.  One of the kittens was just not really socializing with people and was being squeamish and acting like a wild animal whenever we got too close.  With small kids, I can’t have that, so we adopted him out to a good place where he can get a little more one on one time.  This is who we are left with:

So she used to be called “Squirrel” or “Squirrely Girl”, right?  Well have I ever told you that I have a terrible habit of naming pets one thing and then giving them a nickname that is more their name than the official name?  Well I’ve done it again except this time I outright changed it.  So she is no longer Squirrel.  Her new name is Midgey.  She just looks like a Midge, and with the y on the end, it’s cute.  It is.

This cat has the intelligence of a muddy boot.  I have watched this cat try to jump on to high platforms only to splat in an epic fail kind of way.  I have watched her sit in her water dish and then tear ass through the house, traumatized over her wet butt.  She is dumb….but in an endearing sort of way.  She’s also very affectionate and fuzzy.  And fat.  She somehow got really fat.  I have no idea how it happened, but this cat got blumpy!  Again, in an endearing sort of way.  She’s my flufflepuff and I like her a whole lot.

I have had the hardest time sexing this cat.  As a baby, we were certain this was a male cat.  Now that they are nearing the 6 month age, we are pretty certain either this cat has a mutation where the testicles just never formed or it’s a female.  I’m pretty sure it’s safer to say “female.”  I used to call this cat Romeo, but now that the whole “Oh I don’t think you have a penis!” thing has happened, I’ve been calling this cat Sweety, since this cat is ultra mega sweet.  I’m not even kidding.  This cat is precious and darling.  I almost lost her due to a bad case of worms, but we were able to nurse her back to health.  She has emerald green eyes and a pink nose and she always meows very softly.  Sweety.

And there’s my beauty, Salem.  The only cat to retain her original name.  She hasn’t a speck of color on her.  She is pure black and her fur is thick and luxurious.  She’s an Alpha cat, but she’s sweet about it.  The only thing she gets fussy and bitchy about is her perch on the top of the cat play station.  That is where she sleeps and if another cat is up there when she wants it, she simply jumps up there, whacks the out-of-bounds intruder and lazily claims her territory.  She’s also a bit of a sentinel.  She is watchful and protective of her family.  Any time guests come over, she inspects them closely before she can relax.  I catch her staring at me all the time, watching me.  She always has a loving look on her face, but it can be a little off-putting.  Never you mind about all of that.  Make it a point to always befriend a black cat.  They are good luck and make for good companions….unless they are the kind that like to shit in your shoes.  Thankfully, Salem is the nice kind.

……

………….

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Ok, ok.  ONE picture of my boys before I end this.  And I’m only sharing this picture because I can feel my throat close up when I look at it because I am so touched by it.

Beautiful.

“But Somer,” you may be asking.  “Why the hell were you going to post pictures of your body and broadcast them to the whole world?  Are you just becoming desperate for attention?”  My simple reply to that is to say “fuck off.”  The more in-depth reply is to explain that my truth concerning my body is different from what super models who walk the runway in lingerie six weeks after giving birth have.  My truth is that my body never returned to what it was pre-baby.  My truth is that my stretch marks were not minimal and the stretched skin never really puckered back up.  My truth is that my belly button will always look a little weird and wrinkly now.  My truth is that there will always be a bit of a lip at the bottom of my stomach from where the loose skin hangs thanks to either c-sections or very large babies.  I wanted to post pictures of my truth to show that I have no regrets concerning this truth.  I have no fear of it.  I wanted to post it to give people who share a similar truth something to look at and smile a knowing smile.

I can fit into my pre-pregnancy pants.  My shoes all still fit.  My boobs deflate back to their sad and hilarious small size.  But I’m not the same.  I think most women who go through pregnancy feel that way.  Your body just isn’t quite the same.  Some changes are minor and are easy to forget.  Other changes are more glaring.  When I look at pictures of myself running around in small bikinis or shirts that revealed my super sexy belly button, my mouth might turn down slightly before I see another pictures of one of my sons.  I smile and say, “I gave those skimpy clothes a good run,” and go on with my life.

The pictures would have explained a lot.  Some people would gasp and say, “oh that poor girl.”  Others would scoff and say that I have it easy.  Each pair of eyes is a different filter and my truth colors differently through those filters.  I guess what I want to impart is that for me, it’s ok to be stretched out, saggy and discolored.  I still feel sexy.  I am someone with extra skin who has no intentions whatsoever to have cosmetic surgery to get me back to my 21 year-old body.

I won’t be wearing bikinis on the beach and I won’t be seen in half-shirts anymore.  Those days are gone and, quite frankly, I’m too old for some of that anyhow.  I’m not going to regret the loss of that taut skin or fear letting anyone see what has become of my body.  You know why?

That’s why.

And it doesn’t hurt that my butt still looks rockin’ in a good pair of blue jeans.

UPDATE

Alright, I said I’d do it and I meant it.  Just after Thanksgiving, I’m putting pictures of my naked ass on my blog.  I feel like I should perhaps have a drink before I hit the update button, but what the hell.  It’s not like this is the only place you can find naked skin on the internet.

Ah, the sagging skin.  The hilariously deflated belly button.  There’s a mole on my stomach that used to be right beside my belly button that has migrated, thanks to stretched skin, more to my side.

The c-section lip.  And the craziness of my stretch marks.  And oh yeah, some side-butt.  You can just ignore that last one.

Truth time folks: stretch marks happen.  Those fancy creams and oils on the market to prevent them or diminish them don’t do much.  Granted, my babies were rather large, but these stretch marks are NOT new.  Those suckers are still deep and discolored three years later.  And you know what?  I still manage to live and wear attractive clothes and let my husband see me naked.  It’s not the end of the world.

I’m 1 month postpartum.  It’s not going to get much better than it is now looks-wise.  My stomach might flatten out a tiny bit more, but the sagging and the stretch marks stay the same.  And I’m not sorry for it.

When I left home for college, the cross came with me and was draped over the top post of my dorm bed.  When Jessie and I moved in together, the cross came with me and took its usual place.  Always when something was bothering me to the point of keeping me from sleeping, I would grasp at the cross and pray silently for peace of mind.  It’s something that gives me a lot of comfort and serenity.  And with my fevered brain, serenity is much needed sometimes.

When I was pregnant with Lukas, I asked Jessie if he minded my putting a cross in Lukas’ room.  Jessie thought it was a good idea and I bought him one.  I don’t keep it draped on his bed just yet.  I haven’t explained to him what it’s for and I want him to really appreciate that sort of comfort.  With Ruegen, I planned to do the same.

Believe it or not, it is actually really hard to find a simple cross.  I had mentioned to my mom that I was looking.  She called me one night and said, “I found one of your grandma’s crosses.  Do you want it for Ruegen?”  At this point I had already purchased one for Ruegen, but I also didn’t feel right about only one of my boys getting a cross as precious to me as one that belonged to my grandma.  My mom understood.

“You know how some people believe that when a loved one dies they come back and watch over their loved ones?” She asked me.  “I think if your grandma was going to watch over anybody, it would be your babies.”

I bit my lip and tried to hide the fact that I was using every ounce of will to not cry.  My mom has a talent for saying just the right thing to me at times and it’s so touching and sweet that I can actually feel something inside of me crack.  It’s a nice thought, my grandma watching over my babies.  I don’t know that I actually believe that to be true, but it’s a nice thought.

So there are three cross necklaces in my house. One is draped at the head of my bed and the other two are draped above the windows in my boys’ rooms.  They comfort and help with prayer and silent meditation.  If my boys are anything like either of their parents, they will need a little help from time to time to achieve that inner quiet we long for so often.  When I finally explain to them what they are for, I hope that they can appreciate the thought if nothing else.  I love those boys so much.

Ruegen’s Halloween outfit.

Lukas was Woody.  He kept yelling “Howdy, howdy, howdy!” instead of “Trick or treat.”  That kid cracks me up.

When I look at this picture, I know how the Grinch must have felt when he realized that the Who’s revered Christmas for things other than presents and his heart grew three sizes.  Having your heart swell that much is a sweet, sweet ache.

For once, Lukas is being cooperative.  Ruegen however, decided sleep was better than hamming it up for the camera.  Give it a month or so.  It will change.

When Lukas was this age, his favorite song for me to sing to him was “No Rain” by Blind Melon.  Ruegen is a bit more mellow in his tastes and prefers that I sing “Hey Jude” by the Beatles.  Don’t look at me that way.  He’s too young for the Stones at this point!

I’ve decided that I’m going to force pictures of my cute babies on you once a week.  I’m going to try to maintain this and do it every week for at least the rest of 2010.  You have no choice in this matter.  None at all.

How in the hell did I end up here? A three-year old? Where have I been all this time??

It was a nice celebration for Lukas, though. It was low-key and all about HIM. He was a happy boy. The night before, I snuggled in bed with him and we talked about how the next day he would get presents and cake and Grandma and Grandpa would be coming for a visit. This little chat got him so excited that I was summoned back to his room later that night to talk him down and rock him to sleep. That was the first time he was too excited over something to sleep.

I filled the living room up with balloons because this child LOVES balloons.  When he came downstairs after his nap and saw all of the ribbons dangling from the floating spheres of happy, he squealed.

He was so excited, he blew his candles out twice.

I love Wilton and their cake pans.  They require ZERO skill or talent to make a cute cake.  He LOVED this 3D train cake.

“Can’t talk now.  I’z eating mah cake!”

I like to give him little favor boxes for his birthdays.  I get them from party stores and pay almost nothing for them.  These fabulous Elton John glasses were $0.99!

This Woody doll has by far been his favorite present.  Woody eats with him and goes to bed with him.

And, of course, in true Lukas fashion this was a pants-less celebration.

This post is keeping with my “CUTE ONLY” blogging until baby #2 is born.  It’s not been easy.  The news lately has had me closing the top of my laptop chanting “cute is my zen, CUTE IS MY ZEN.”  Luckily, I’m still surrounded by merciless cute, so I rebound rather quickly.