Yup, I’m pregnant!

We’re thrilled.

We’re a little like “What the hell are we doing?” And a little like “Really? That was friggin’ quick!” And a lotta like “This is pretty awesome.”

Life has been busy. I won’t bore you with our completely uninteresting updates of work, more work, grad school, and more work. BUT it’s going to get less busy. I’ll be back to just one job (working from home – freelancing – which I’ve been doing since May) while raising my little girl. Um . . . hell-to-the-yay!

So life will get calmer before it gets busier (when our next bundle of joy arrives in the spring). And then will get calmer again when Rob graduates from business school in May . . . hell-to-the-FRIGGIN-yay!

And then we’ll have two kids who are 18-months apart. Um . . . yikes!

Actually, I think it will be nice to have them close in age: they will have similar interests and – eventually – will be on similar schedules.

It will be fabulous. We’re feeling really lucky.

And Tessa already loves her little sibling (size of a blueberry). She took the ultrasound and quickly crumbled it up in her fist (sibling rivalry already?) and stuffed it in her mouth (pure love, clearly).

As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be embarking – next week, eek! – on a freelancing career that will allow me to work from home. I’m ecstatic.

What this means for me:

• I get to be with my daughter more – yay!
• I get to have a one-minute commute v. 45-minute commute – yay!
• I get to maintain – maybe even grow – my career while also balancing being home and available for my kids – yay!

What this means for our family:

• Tessa will be home with me or playing with neighborhood kids instead of at daycare – yay for Tessa, me and the neighbors’ kiddos!
• Rob and I will have no more drop-off or pick-up concerns – yay!

But we’ll also be largely reliant on Rob’s income as – with the world of freelancing – one month can be good, the other can be . . . well, no income at all. So while it means less juggling stress it means additional financial stress. It also really scares me how I’m going to balance working and taking care of everything at home.

And then this article from the Wall Street Journal came out – exploiting all of my fears. It talks about if you “work from home,” people take that as “you don’t work.” And the damn article is true! I’ve mentioned to people that I’ll be working from home and either the first or second thing they say is “OMG! You’re going to be a SAHM!” I’ve let it slide because I really don’t care enough to correct them. But at the same time, the point is the same as the article: working from home doesn’t translate in people’s minds and their expectations will be “you’re home, you can do it.”

And I just don’t feel like my standard response of “you can suck it” is appropriate. Call me a neighborly gal.

Basically – I’m a little nervous. I will be working. I will have deadlines. But I’ll also have to balance my work deadlines with the spontaneous deadlines at home: like a poopy diaper explosion or – geez, I don’t even know what happens at home! Ahhh.

We’re working the numbers to nanny-share with a neighbor two days a week, which would be lovely because I would have a few hours a week where I could dedicate to getting work done. But, as with any change, my trepidation persists – alongside the excitement, of course.

I’m nervous. Excited. But nervous. But more excited than nervous. But nervous nonetheless. Know what I mean?

Tessa now knows the word “no.” And Tessa doesn’t like it. She obeys it. But doesn’t like it.

She likes to play with the wires behind our electronics in the great room.

Momma: Tessa, no.

Tessa: Waaaahhhhhhh

She likes to try to climb into the cat’s liter box.

Momma: Tessa, no.

Tessa: Waaahhhhhhhh

And now she’s added in the temper tantrum that must be instinctual because how does one learn it. So the new and improved routine is:

Tessa tries to climb a glass shelving unit

Momma: Tessa, no.

Tessa: Waaaahhhhhh – collapses on floor, face to the ground, kicking and screaming.

The first time I saw it, I was like “WTH? That’s pretty damn cute.” And picked her up and kissed her.

Um . . . it’s still pretty flippin’ hysterical but no more mommy kisses. Are you kidding me? Shake it off, sister.

Rob saw it for the first time yesterday and said the same thing, “What the hell is that?” and then picked her up and kissed her.  And so it begins.

I’ve been meaning to blog about breastfeeding – so what better time than now when we all have received an edict from hot momma Gisele Bundchen to breastfeed our children for at least the first six months of life.

I am an advocate for breastfeeding. I had a great bonding and loving experience with my daughter when we were breastfeeding and she was exclusively on breastmilk for the first eight months of her life so I suppose I would pass Gisele’s expectations and the new international law that she wants to be put into effect.

But here’s my problem: people need to friggin’ chill.

Yes, I am an advocate for breastfeeding. But I’m a bigger advocate for moms doing what is best for their kids and themselves. A happy mom = a happy baby. A happy mom = a happy household.

Some moms can’t produce enough milk. Some babies have health problems and need formula, often times medical formula. Some women choose not to breastfeed (gasp!). Whatever a mom’s decision, she is making the best one for her and for her child. If the mom is happy, that is enough. And that is all we should ask of mothers – is that they make the decisions they are comfortable with.

Breastfeeding does not make us good mothers. That is not how our success should be measured. We love. We nurture. We laugh. We cuddle. We snuggle. We comfort. We are moms.

And I know we all question whether we’re good moms. And we think “maybe if I breastfeed for a year, that means I’m a good mom.” But there are no mathematical equations for mommyhood: if I do this for xx months + I do this for xx months = I’m a good mom. Life isn’t like that.

And lastly: people need to friggin’ chill.

My friends have often told me stories of when they first announce that they’re pregnant and they receive responses like “Congratulations! Are you going to breastfeed?” To that, I recommend the response “Back off. And you’re fat.” I especially recommend the fat remark to Gisele because that would drive her batty given that she’s very proud of having lost her baby weight in six weeks. Really? She’s gorgeous, married to Tom Brady, practices yoga everyday, and is building a $30 million mansion so her baby has enough space to crawl. I can totally relate to her.

In Gisele’s defense, it doesn’t sound like she meant to offend the mass amount of people that she did. And we forgive her. Because we’re moms. And we’re all in this together. Or, at least, we should be.