Shameless Husband Brag Ahead:

Yesterday, I dropped Tim off at work after his break. Lately, with gasoline being in high demand, we've cut down drastically on our driving. The boys and I hadn't been out for a while, and Jett desperately needed some outdoor playtime. So, we decided that I should have the car for the evening and take them to the park.

Tim also offered to bring me some food from the restaurant (he's a server, and he gets food half price). I waited in the car while he went in to order. Usually, when he brings me food, I wait in the car for about 20 minutes, and then he emerges with my sandwich, salad, and drink.

He stepped out of the passenger door, giving me a kiss before he made his exit. Then, about 10 minutes later, he came out with just a drink. He brought it around to the driver's side window, and I said, "Um, you're missing something."

He grinned and said, "I know. I just wanted more excuses to kiss you goodbye, so I'm bringing it in shifts."

Awwww. :)

He brought out my salad next, without the sandwich. ::Goodbye kiss:: Then, 5 minutes later, he brought the sandwich. ::Goodbye kiss::

8 1/2 years and 100 pounds later, he still looks for excuses to kiss me goodbye. Of course, he didn't really need an excuse, in my opinion.

Obligatory picture - 8 1/2 years ago:



::Goodbye kiss::

Phoenix

Rest in peace, sweet kitty.

So, Tim Says He's Done.

Tuesday was a bit of a family day for us. We went to the park so Jett could play. It started sprinkling while we were there, so we decided to leave the park and enjoy a rare dinner in a restaurant. Lately, we don't get much fancier than Chik-fil-a, so that's where we ended up.

The topic of expanding our family came up as our little foursome dined on chicken sandwiches and waffle fries. Jett was screaming furiously because he couldn't open a ketchup packet, and Dax was fussing at the idea of his mouth not having a boob in it for five minutes so I can shove some fast-food poultry down my throat.

Needless to say, it was an interesting time to discuss having more children. Interestingly, though, I can't bring myself to say that I'm done. Even now - I'm typing one-handed while I hold Dax, and Jett keeps handing me a McDonald's kid's meal toy, screaming because the rubberband that he insists on having around its head keeps coming off - I want more. I just do.

Tim does not.

No more. None. No mas bebes. If we had the money, he'd find a doctor willing to preform a vasectomy right now, at 11:12pm on a Friday night. He'd be there - pants off, bare butt on the operating table - before I could say "it's okay, honey I'll get an IUD, and we can revisit this later".

I may be exaggerating just a smidge, but he's not far from that.

I'm even willing to wait about ten years. I'd be 35, and the boys would be 12 and 10. They could take care of themselves more effectively, and they might even help out. Tim says that by that point, we'll have our sleep back, no diaper duty, and children that can feed themselves pretty well. So, obviously, we won't want to give that up for another crying, sucking, poop machine. Strangely, I'm still not so sure.

Maybe it was the extremely positive birth experience that I had with Dax (I'm planning to post that birth story here very soon). I absolutely loved giving birth to him. As much as I complained about being pregnant, I wouldn't trade it, and I can't imagine never feeling a baby move in my belly again. Despite the raging nipple pain and engorgement (among other things) associated with breastfeeding, I don't want Dax to be the last baby I nurse.

Maybe it's because I'm completely fascinated by pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, and the overall workings of the human body. More specifically, I'm enraptured by the female body - my own body - and its ability to nourish another human from conception on through to breastfeeding and beyond.

Sigh.

I still hold out hope that Tim will change his mind. I don't think he'll feel this way forever. Even if he doesn't, maybe I'll eventually share his sentiment, and we'll both feel happily done having children. We'll see.

How I Made My Own Liquid Hand Soap

First of all, I found the recipe at TipNut. I highly recommend subscribing to their email list for all sorts of goodies in your inbox.

Here's an idea of what it looks like when finished. Notice I used an old soap bottle:



I used Ivory soap as the base, but I'm hoping to experiment with more natural soaps and cleansers in the future. Ivory also has a scent that can be quite strong for me. I always sneeze when I grate the soap bars.

I added some lavender oil for an extra pretty smell, but, like I said, the Ivory scent is pretty overpowering. Even so, I'm still very please with the final result. This will save us quite a bit of money, with all the hand washing that goes on here.

One of the tips below the recipe suggested using green tea instead of water to make green tea soap. I may try that next time. I think I might add a few drops of tea tree oil as well.

On Baby Names

When Tim and I were engaged, we made an agreement regarding baby names: he'll name the boys, and I'll name the girls. We actually took this seriously enough to make a rudimentary contract and sign it. Take a look - the notebook got wet, so there was some smudging:



So far, I'm 0 for 2. We have two boys - Jett and Dax. Rarely do I share their names and not receive a comment on their unconventionality or uniqueness. Sometimes, I wish I could actually take some credit for them, but it was all Tim - well, mostly Tim. I begged him to add the second "T" to Jett. I also wanted to call him "JJ", since his middle name begins with a "J" as well, but I traded that for the extra "T".

I believe Tim found the name "Jett" in a baby name book. It means "black gemstone". His middle name, James, is the same as Tim's older brother, who passed away in 2001.

I swore I was having a girl when I was pregnant with Jett. The name "April Rose" was on my short list during that brief time before I had my ultrasound. My due date was in April, and my grandma's maiden name is Rose. With my amazing creativity and originality (note the sarcasm), I crammed them together and came up with a name. I also toyed around with "Jetta Jane", which is basically a feminine version of Jett's name.

When I found out I was pregnant with Dax, I wanted to wait until the birth to find out the sex. Tim said he didn't care, so we waited. He toyed around quite a bit before settling on a name that really felt right to both of us. Despite the fact that we had a signed document granting him the right to name this child whatever he pleased if it was a boy, he was very flexible. My hormone-induced fits of disapproval were probably responsible for that.

When he first brought up the name "Dax", I said no. Actually, it was probably more like "H-E-double-hockey-sticks, no". He brought it up before I even became pregnant again, so I hoped that it would pass by the time we had another baby. Something about the name didn't sit well with me.

Tim toyed with a few other names - Red and Slater were a couple - but he landed on Dax in the end. I still wasn't sold.

So, I Googled it. I found a couple links about the German stock market and a couple about actor-comedian, Dax Shepard (which was somewhat comforting, knowing that there was another person with this name). I found it in a baby name database as well, and I liked the meaning. According to one site, Dax means "leader" in French. Another claims it means "water" (I didn't learn this until later on). I liked the meanings, so I was slowly starting to come around. Then, I came across a Wikipedia link that revealed a little history. Dax was a character on Star Trek.

Okay.

I should've known that much. He came from a family of Star Trek fanatics. I don't have anything against Star Trek, but I never really watched it. I caught a few episodes of Voyager, only because Tim was with me, and he wanted to watch it.

It took some time for me to come to terms with the fact that my next child, if he's a boy, would most likely have a name inspired by the holy grail of geekdom. I'm one to talk, though. I'm a die hard Star Wars fan, which certainly gives me some nerd points.

What ultimately sealed my approval was none other than my favorite red-haired late-night talk show host, Conan O'Brien. I was watching Late Night, as I do every night (I'm a HUGE fan), and I noticed that the aforementioned actor-comedian Dax Shepard was on the show. I was still hesitant about the name, but Tim said "I'll bet you anything that Conan will say how cool the name is. Maybe you'll like it then." I think he was half joking, but Conan had commented on his guests' names before, specifically Chazz Palminteri. I wasn't holding out too much hope, though.

Sure enough, after the opening monologue, he announced the guests, making a point to say "that's a cool name!" after announcing Dax Shepard. Apparently, Conan O'Brien has more control over me than I thought. The instant he declared the name as cool, I then thought it was cool, also. I was like a robot with a Conan O'Brien chip in my brain - not that I'm complaining.

Anyway.

I begged Tim to give Dax his middle name, Spicer, which is his grandmother's maiden name, but he wasn't interested. Instead, he chose to give him his mother's maiden name, Creager. His maternal grandfather passed away around the time we found out I was pregnant, so it really seemed apropos to give Dax his family name.

Had Dax been a girl, "she" would've been Julia Spicer. Julia was my great-grandmother's name, and Spicer, as I said before, is Tim's middle name. I've considered holding onto this name for a future daughter, if we happen to have more children, but I'm not sure I can do that. Somehow, I feel that the name is tied to Dax, in a way. That name is part of him, even though it's not his actual name. I chose it based on the connection I formed with him while he was part of me. The name fit. I feel that it will always be his "girl name", if that makes any sense.

I don't feel as strongly about Jett's girl name possibilities. First of all, I knew he was a boy when I was pregnant. Secondly, I hadn't truly settled on a girls' name, so I didn't form the same connection between the baby and the name.

Now that I've gone on and on, in great detail, about my boys' names, I should probably show some pictures.

Dax in the tub:


Super Jett:


Jett and Dax:


Dax and I:


And that's a wrap.

I haven't forgotten about my blog.

I just don't have as much time to type long posts. That, and I'm almost always holding a baby.

I'm currently eating a scrambled egg biscuit and drinking a glass of Coke while pondering just how well I'm going to handle starting Weight Watchers in about a week. I can't think about that. I have to do it. I just have to. I must lose weight - about 120 pounds. I need to lose a whole person.

It's funny. Before I had Dax, I was really confident in my looks - even as an obese woman. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the same girl that danced and sang into her hairbrush when she was 17, only there was one difference. That 17-year-old girl didn't like the way she looked. She thought she was fat and ugly. She hated her body.

100 pounds and one child later, I loved my body. I loved how it looked, and I loved what my body did for me. You would think that having a VBAC - Vaginal Birth After Cesarean - completely unmedicated at that, would've made that positive body image even stronger. You would think that breastfeeding exclusively - knowing that my body, and my body alone, is nourishing my baby completely, without any complication - would also add to that appreciation for my body.

You would think.

I can only guess that a combination of hormones, lack of sleep, and most likely postpartum depression are to blame for my recent body image issues. I haven't felt this horrid about my body since I was that insecure, self-conscious 17-year-old girl. I never thought that "because I want to look better" would be one of my reasons for starting a weight loss program, but now it is. You know what else? I'm not afraid to admit it. I want to look better. More than anything, I want better health and energy, but looking better is a close second, and I'm okay with that.