I just put Madelyn to sleep in her crib for the very last time. Her big girl bed arrives tomorrow and Halloween night will be her first snooze in the full size bed. Let’s hope sugar and cheap chocolate are the missing ingredients to a successful night’s sleep.

This was right after she said: “Mommy, can I go to sleep in my crib now?” Pinch me.

We also read her final story from the glider and ottoman. It’s probably a good thing, as she’s having a hard time fitting on my lap since her sister is beginning to take up too much thigh real estate (never thought I’d get to say that my thighs are getting smaller). The next time we read a story before bed, we will snuggle together side by side.

Final cuddles in our chair before the new tenant takes on the lease.

It’s weird, this whole big girl bed thing. I am excited for her and looking forward to our family enjoying her new room, but I am also super nostalgic about closing this chapter. I remember all the sleepless nights I spent planning her nursery. Every detail was intricately imagined. I tossed and turned over the crib bedding and played Goldilocks on dozens of chairs in stores throughout Los Angeles: this one’s too glidey; this one’s too stiff; this one’s juuuuuust right. Some things don’t always go as planned and some things do. I always assumed she would be up all night in her crib leaving us exhausted — because that’s what babies do — and that she and I would spend hours in that chair nursing and cuddling — because that’s what babies do. Thankfully, the former didn’t happen — she slept soundly in that crib, and we lucked out in that department. The latter, well, that didn’t happen either, but perhaps I will get the chance to experience nursing and bonding with Madelyn’s baby sister.

It’s taken a while for Madelyn to come around on the big girl bed. She has always really loved sleeping in her crib. I tried to nap with her once in our bed, and she wouldn’t even close her eyes. She needs her own space and was always very attached to the security her crib provided. It’s so interesting how some kids are cut out for different sleeping arrangements. So months ago, when we presented the idea that change was blowin’ in the wind, she pretty much protested. We wanted to cut the crib early, around halfway through my pregnancy, so that she’d have time to adjust and it wouldn’t seem that the new baby was stealing her property.

I should’ve known she wasn’t going to drink the crib Kool-Aid just yet; she’s the only three-year-old I know who had never even attempted getting out. She can’t even climb in by herself. I always heard stories about the time I climbed out of my crib and my mom awoke to my face at her pillow. No such surprise ever happened because Madelyn never wanted out.

This is as far as Madelyn gets when she tries to climb in. Her upper body strength is not Olympian and her drive is not Harvardian.

Even on weekend mornings, she will wake up around 8:30 and happily play for hours sometimes until 10:00 or 10:30, by singing songs, telling stories to her stuffed animal “friends,” and recreating the previous day’s events. Her crib has always been her spot for relaxing and her spot for creating; that crib knows secrets and the depths of her imagination.

It was only about a week ago that Madelyn finally got on board with the big girl bed. We went shopping for her bedding at Pottery Barn Kids and I was on a mission to find the cutest bedding. It was like nursery planning all over again, but this time, it had to last. Never did I think that she’d spend over three years in her crib, so I knew that this would be even more long term and hopefully take her to her pre-teen age. After about an hour of playing with all the overpriced magical decor at PBK, she realized how much she loved all the big girl items. When I picked out her bedding and showed it to her, she said it was “so beautiful, Mommy!” and I knew she had fallen victim to the wonder and enchantment of Pottery Barn.

Creating a monster.

Apple. Tree. It doesn’t fall far.

This past week, we’ve been busy building new furniture for her so that her baby furniture can go in her sister’s room. The poor child isn’t even born yet and is already getting Madelyn’s hand-me-downs. I plan to decorate the nursery with all new bedding and accessories so that Baby Girl Friedman #2 has somewhat of her own identity. Meanwhile, Madelyn gets a fresh start with a new dresser and bookshelf bench in addition to her new bed and bedding. Tomorrow, her crib and glider chair will move next door, and the adventure of her big girl room begins.

I’m crossing all my body parts — which is very hard to do when you’re 21 weeks pregnant — that her first night goes smoothly and sets the precedent for continued healthy sleeping habits for our lover of Zzzzzzzzz’s. I’ve heard of putting a pool noodle toy under the fitted sheet to help prevent roll outs. Any other nuggets of wisdom for keeping a kid in bed when freedom has suddenly been granted?

Since she never tried to go all Shawshank on me, I am hoping the lack of baby jail bars won’t tempt her to pull anything naughty.

She’s never been so happy to be held captive behind bars. PJs are the new black.

I won’t worry myself too much with what-ifs and maybes. Instead, I will continue to savor our last night together in the chair, cuddled close as her hair tickled my chin between sentences of our book. And despite the minor hernia from lifting her, I will treasure the moment of putting my baby — no, big girl — into her crib for her final snooze.

Growing up is sad-cool.

Already this poor kid is getting the infamous second child shaft. Twenty weeks in, and she’s only had her own blog post once. Oh yeah, it’s a “she.” See? SO MUCH INFORMATION I HAVEN’T WRITTEN ABOUT. I think by 20 weeks, I had already blogged about Madelyn’s every cell, so this is an extreme departure in this chapter of motherhood.

So first thing’s first. As mentioned, it’s a girl! And a very healthy and perfect one at that, and Madelyn is so darn excited to have a little sister. We found out at our 12-week ultrasound. The tech was pretty sure it was a girl, but hesitated to tell us because she didn’t want me to go nuts (what would ever give her that impression?). We confirmed at an indulgent ultrasound studio that it was indeed 99% girl, and the tech there said the only reason she couldn’t tell us 100% is because they’re not allowed to. Holy vagina!

The pregnancy started off stressful due to my beloved Dr. Fiiiiine confirming with me that she was going to cease the obstetrics portion of her practice in exchange for a more stable and consistent lifestyle with normal hours. Can’t say I blame her, but I was more than heartbroken. She had been there for me during the most amazing — and most scary — parts of my experiences with Madelyn, and I was sad that she would not deliver our second child. I also wasn’t thrilled about having to find a new OB, but she referred me to another local doctor who I’ve now seen twice. Dr. Replacement is very nice and knowledgeable, and so far I think I made a good decision by choosing to see him. I’ve heard that he’s an excellent surgeon and at this point, that’s what I care about most. As a second-time mom, I am not as concerned or worried about every minute symptom of the pregnancy and I don’t have to question about his practices during a natural delivery since I am having a repeat c-section. I’m confident he will do a nice job and will take the necessary precautions to make sure I don’t go through what I went through after Madelyn’s c-section.

I started this pregnancy seeing Dr. Fiiiine’s dad who she practices with (and who delivered me in 1983) because Dr. Fiiiine was out of town. Then I saw Dr. Fiiiine twice more before we decided we had to break up and see other people (me, other doctors; her, other women who were not bearing children). Before I found Dr. Replacement, I also did a test run with another popular OB in the area and wasn’t thrilled with him. I also sprinkled in a routine appointment with the perinatologist for a first trimester screen. So, lots of various doctors, and not a lot of consistency — thank goodness this wasn’t my first baby or I’d be a wreck! I’ll see Dr. Replacement next week at 21 weeks and only for the third time. His checks seem to be less detailed and exciting from what I remember at Dr. Fiiiine’s and of course I miss her office staff terribly, but I think once we hit the homestretch and it’s showtime, he’ll really deliver the goods. Literally and figuratively. And then, when I’m all done and it’s time for annual visits, I plan to go back to Dr. Fiiiine because there’s no love like your first love.

(Side note: I had to call Dr. Fiiiine’s office to transfer some records. We spoke on the phone and as we were hanging up, I blurted out, “I MISS YOU” and then there was a really awkward silence. I am THAT girl). (This could be me).

Other than the excitement of adding another girl to our house and the shuffle of doctors to deliver this girl, this pregnancy has been pretty low key. Like last time, I’ve felt really normal and pretty healthy. I was never too sick and the only thing that’s bothered me has been some pretty debilitating headaches, but I also appreciate how easy I’ve had it compared to some other moms.

Part of that ease has been Madelyn. The times when I am down for the count, that little girl impresses me beyond all expectations. She’s such a happy, independent player and can keep herself busy for hours. Whether it’s playing school with her dolls, reading books, coloring and painting, or dressing up in all of her princess costumes, I have felt better knowing I can take time for myself while she stays happy and healthy.

Out and about with my big girl who asked to take a selfie of us. Oy.

Of course we love our play time and snuggle time, and we enjoy many trips and errands out during the day, but I am so thankful for the times I need to be selfish.

I don’t know if it’s the hormones or if it’s the normal response, but I often find myself tearing up when she talks to “her” baby, hugs my belly, tickles it, and cuddles with her sister. Just this morning, during a cuddle sesh with my belly button that may as well poke an eye out, she said, “Oh, Baby! I just love you! I can’t wait to teach you!” Yeah. There was a puddle and it wasn’t my water breaking early, that’s for sure.

I’m going to make sure I update more so that this little ones doesn’t come read this blog one day and hate me for neglecting to document her time in my belly. It’s gone fast and I know it’ll go faster now that we’re a little more than halfway done cooking. March 4th is the big day, and march forth we will!

Now that our closest friends and family know, it’s out on social media, and I’m already sporting some oh-so super sexy over-the-tummy maternity clothes, we are officially out of the pregnancy closet and happy to announce that Madelyn is going to be a big sister!

This is how we shared the news recently on Facebook:

This baby has been in the making for a while. Longer than we intended, actually. But that’s life’s way of a funny joke since we went into it thinking it would be as quick and easy as it was the first time. So for seven months, I was in a bad mood, annoyed with each notification of “Nope, try again!”

Naturally, I got frustrated and started wondering what could be wrong. And it wasn’t until I finally gave in and had to reluctantly buy a box of monthly, um, “gear” (I seriously might have muttered some bad words to the box, letting it know how very unwelcome it was on my shelf) that I think something clicked, and that box is still unopened.

My first order of business after I took a pregnancy test was to tell Bryan. He was downstairs and had been awaiting my opening of that dreaded box I unwillingly had to buy, assuming we’d see another unpregnant month. With a morning haze and my glasses still on, I asked him if he saw one line or two because I wasn’t able to function (this is true. I am, uh, not a morning person). He looked at me in shock and told me he saw two. I said I thought so, but knew I needed a new prescription for my glasses and can barely read the cereal box, so I couldn’t take a home pregnancy test very seriously.

We were super excited, a lot in shock, and a little freaked out.

We decided to tell our families during a July 4th BBQ we had already planned on hosting. It was two days away, and while we didn’t want to make a huge production, we also wanted to add a little excitement to the mix.

I bought a cake and had it customized to say: Expecting A New Little Firecracker.

It was cute, but our baby cake was also delicious. Is that wrong?

The day after we found out we were pregnant, Madelyn was on her A-game firing off the funniest sayings and my mom jokingly called her a little firecracker. I knew that that was my link to the upcoming holiday and this baby’s big sister.

It was a normal BBQ at our house except for the fact that I was on edge with excitement to share our news. And at one point, my sister-in-law asked me, “So what’s new?” and I screamed in my head that I was pregnant aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!! but I just shrugged and sighed and said, “Eh, nothin’ much. Just staying busy this summer.”

Princeton looked extra dapper in his festive bandana and Madelyn was enjoying all the attention of her favorite family members being together. I snapped some photos before the craziness.

All my babies!

So after some grilling and grubbing, I told everyone to check out this cute cake I got for dessert. Some got it right away; some took a few extra seconds for it to sink in, but in a matter of a minute, we were all hugging and celebrating. It was really fun, and it felt good to share our good news with our VIPs.

The family of 4-ish.

I think the best reaction of the baby news was when we told Madelyn. We told her the same day we found out because I can’t keep my own secrets very well from the people I love and I wanted to hear her weigh in on the situation. I explained to her that Mommy has a baby in her belly and reminded her about other friends who’ve also had babies in their bellies lately. She seemed to understand very well. I told her she was going to be a big sister and she’d get to have her own baby.

Her eyes grew wide, she gasped with realization, looked upstairs, and declared: I have babies in my pway woom!

She will find out soon enough that this baby won’t be anything like the five plastic ones that share a miniature crib surrounded by blocks and books in the room next door to hers. She also will find out soon enough that the room next door to hers will no longer be her pway woom. Sorry, pal.

She actually took the news very well and each day she continues to make my heart melt with hugs and kisses to my belly, often singing and talking to Baby. She is so excited to be a big sis!

We are now almost 13 weeks along, and despite some extreme exhaustion and a few waves of queasiness here and there, I’ve had a great and easy pregnancy as I did with Madelyn’s. Seeing the baby during ultrasounds has helped remind me that this is really happening during my busy days with a three-year-old when it’s easy to be distracted. We’ve had our routine first trimester screening and I’m relieved and happy to say that everything looked perfect and normal.

So, come early March, we will officially be able to say we are a family of four (humans), and that another one has been Born Friedman.

Hey, kid! Welcome to the Internet!

An only child for a while longer!

Hold your horses, people, with campaigning down our throats for continued procreation! We love procreating and we even think we’re pretty good at it, but once Madelyn’s one-year mark passed, people have been inquiring about the status of my uterus on a weekly basis.

Here’s the thing: I loved being pregnant (weird, I know) and I love being a mommy. I think it’s what I was, like, MADE to do. Seriously, if I wasn’t a mom, I’d be totally pointless as a human being. But that doesn’t mean I have to go all Octomom within 20 months of starting a family and have an entire crew team by the time I’m 30 (holy crap that’s in less than three months) (also, us breeding a crew team — haha, that’s funny). No really, having one is a lot and even if we were going to stop at one, there’s nothing wrong with that. Watch as I sparkle on my only child pedestal.

One more finger over and Madelyn would be telling us her thoughts on the subject.

But we will have more. I mean, that’s the plan, anyway. We plan to have another kid so we can fill out an entire booth at Claim Jumper and also because the grandparents will want at least another rugrat to spoil. And Princeton needs another tormentor human sibling to love because he’s already so good with Madelyn. It’s in the Friedman Family Agenda, but you know what, we’re still in homeroom and another kid isn’t until, like, after school.

I feel like we’ve gotten our whole routine down with Madelyn and it’s great. Things are really perfect right now and I don’t want to do anything to change it up. Plus, she’s almost two, so basically, she’s a ticking time bomb at all hours of the day, and even though she’s an overall terrific kid, she’s still work. And I’m more of the slacker and lazy type of adult, staying true to my child-of-the-early-90s stereotype, and I can’t be bothered with more work than I’m already doing.

Does this look like the face of a child who would like an order of less attention with a side of shared fries?

Also, Bryan’s already received the ransom note, so this isn’t a surprise to him, but I’m holding my uterus hostage until we land a bigger house. I know, I know, I sound like a brat because people make it work with, like, a shoebox and a dishtowel, but those people are brave and I’m not brave. I’m everything but brave. I’m a big, whiny wimp and I am not envisioning my Happy Little Family of Four in our 2-bedroom condo. It’s a great condo. It has two big bedrooms. There’s a nice living space and a darling kitchen. We are busting at the seams, and there’s no way I’m going to volunteer to trip on double the toys and jumpy things and Little People characters in the same small quarters. We need a yard. We need more bedrooms. And so I told Bryan as we were outlining our golden years because, yes, we are already senior citizens, that I will give him my uterus if he will give me a house. It is such a fair deal, you guys. So, we’re working on that. I just need all those rich aholes who are buying the houses we keep bidding on to stop paying with all cash and making us look like paupers. It’s not fair and they’re acting like human birth control. Go buy houses in less desirable areas and the rest of you who live between Oak Park and Newbury Park all need to put your 4-bedroom/3-bathroom house up for sale so I can buy it. Thanks. (oh, and if your kitchen is remodeled, you get Friedman 2.0 naming rights). (stainless steel appliances and a built-in island get you middle AND first name).

And — cheeseball alert — I can’t imagine loving another child right now. There’s just no more room in my big, squishy heart for a tiny, baby person. I married Bryan and he took up a lot of that heart. Then we adopted Princeton and he filled in the rest. And then Madelyn came and she made it expand like a balloon and all the veins and arteries started overflowing with insane amounts of heart juice and now my love for her is out of control. So how can I possibly give all my love and attention and pride to a mini-Madelyn? I know it works and so many of my friends have more than one kid and they don’t even play favorites and they say they actually love both their kids. People have been having more than one kid for, ya know, forever so obviously it’s possible and I will love Madelyn’s sibling (hi, if you’re reading this in 10 years. I love you, I do. This was written before you came, ok? Are we cool? Are you going to grow up and have “Mommy Issues?” Did I ruin you with this blog post?), but at this time, while Madelyn is only 19 months old, I am not ready to share my love with more than one child. That’s probably good that I realized that so I don’t go all Cinderella’s Stepmom on #2’s ass.

And it works in reverse, too. I want Madelyn to be old enough to be able to know how to love another child who lives with her and who will be bonded to her forever. She is so obsessed with Mama and Dada right now (and who could blame her?) that I don’t think she could even handle someone new in her world. I want her to be excited and involved in a sibling when the time comes, so we will wait until she’s older. I still have some mating years left in me and I don’t think I’m being sent out to pasture quite yet, so if we can all just be a little patient while we give Madelyn some more time to cook as the center of our universe, my reproductive system will thank you.

This is my actual reproductive system thanking you… and wearing Louboutins, no less.

In a world where we live and breathe the news of Facebook and track everyone’s prenatal month and make vegetable comparisons, we are all very involved in each others’ lives. The questions I get about our next pregnancy all come from a good and supportive place, and for that I am grateful. So, to answer your question, yes we are thinking about #2 and we think it’s going to be a little while longer. But #2, we know you’ll be worth the wait!

Last week, Bryan took me out on a date that had been scheduled for weeks in advance. I was so excited to get dressed up. Put on mascara. Wear a bra. Dumping the mommy uniform and exchanging it for the trophy wife costume was such a cheap thrill, and being surprised was even more exciting.

We drove up to parking garage of The Grove and I was hoping that the big surprise date was a tea party at the American Girl Store. It was either dining with dolls that cost more than most people’s monthly mortgage (those dolls are the 1%) or going on a shopping spree through Nordstrom after hours, but Bryan confirmed the date was neither of those experiences. I quickly mourned the absence of hanging out with the threads of Savvy and t.b.d., and then we took a turn toward the movie theatre. Why we would schlep to Hollywood to go to a movie theatre at The Grove when we have perfectly good theatres out in the ‘burbs was beyond me until we walked into the lobby and encountered a line. I knew it must have been for some special showing of something, but had no idea what it was until I saw an official-looking woman walking by with a poster and an easel. The artwork was recognizable as something I have been dying to see ever since I heard about the project almost two years ago; We were in line to see an exclusive screening of the NBC show Smash that debuts after that football game thing in February.

Girl squeal times a trillion.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We had arrived at 5:30 and we weren’t allowed into the theatre until about 7, so we made friends with the people in line around us. Since I didn’t know the agenda of the evening, I wasn’t sure what the food situation would be — and neither did Bryan — so since I was a little hungry, I ditched the line and got take-out from the restaurant next door to munch on while we waited to get inside the screening.

I perused the menu and decided on something snack-ish and easy to eat while standing in line. I chose chicken tenders. The menu indicates they’re served with ranch dressing, which is one of the many white condiments I refuse to eat, so I told the guy who took my order, a no-personality 20-something guy with tattoos freckling his neck, to just leave out the ranch and give me BBQ sauce instead. And this is how the conversation went:

Thuggish waiter: So you can’t have ranch dressing, right?
Alison: Well, no, I just don’t like it. But I love BBQ sauce, so I’ll take that.
Thuggish waiter: Yeah, but I heard you’re not allowed to have it.
Alison: Oh, um, I’m allowed to have it. I just don’t like it. So… yeah.
Thuggish waiter: So your doctor doesn’t tell you not to eat ranch dressing? Because my girlfriend’s doctor told her not to have it and she’s, like, ten weeks along or something.
Alison: Wait. WHAT?
Thuggish waiter: The baby. You can’t have it because of the baby.
Alison: Oh! Um. Yeah. I already HAD my baby. So, I just don’t like ranch dressing. I’m not pregnant.
Thuggish waiter: You’re not? Oh.
Alison: Yeah, [awkward laughter at the douchebag-ness of this guy] HA HA HA HA HA, I already had a baby. Anyway, yeah HA HA HA HA HA, just no ranch. I don’t like it.

I think he blushed out of embarrassment, but I couldn’t tell because of his tattoos.

And then, to save face, he threw in free cookies and brownies, which is like, so not fair because that’s clearly why I look pregnant!

So, on the big date night out after the end of my pregnancy, apparently I looked pregnant. Which is almost kind of maybe perhaps a little bit funny because I was pregnant. Five months ago.

It’s not that I let the thuggish waiter get to me, but he kind of confirmed something for me that I already knew. It’s time to get serious about being unpregnant. I mean, I enjoyed blowing up like the Good Year blimp for 40 weeks, but now I have a five-month-old and I think it’s fine time I appear to not be carrying her Irish twin. So we are saying bye bye to the poochy tummy. I signed up for a boot camp, which is a miracle because it’s no secret that I am anything but athletic. And to be there and working out at 6:30 a.m. must mean that those Mayans are right about the end of the world and all that jazz.

It’s been nine days of an intense circuit training regimen and eating healthy power foods. I’ve lost six pounds. I mean, probably only due to the shock my body is going through, but I notice a difference. I don’t have a weight goal. I’m not even obsessed with the size on the tags of my clothes. I just want to look good naked. That simple. We already know I don’t like caloric condiments like ranch dressing so I am on the right path!

I really am cracking up about how clueless that guy was to insinuate I was pregnant. I’m not really insulted because he wasn’t that intelligent. I mean, unless you can see a woman crowning, every smart man knows not to gamble that tricky and amorphous tummy which can be the result of a big dinner or a disguised, front-wearing fanny pack. Or, in my case, the deflated home of an evicted baby.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, Smash is a smash! It is definitely going to be the best new show on television and I highly recommend it to everyone. It’s just so perfectly produced and I was literally lifted out of my seat and blown away by the concept. And, you know, it’s not easy for a pregnant woman to be blown away.

Smirk.