r's story

(This is the story Rhianna told today. Dave transcribed word for word.)

Despereaux has a puppy dog in his hand and Despereaux is taking his dog to the store to buy puppy food. That puppy was so hungry, he couldn't wait. Despereaux named his dog Clairabelle. The puppy was so happy she had a name. The puppy went to the puppy store with Despereaux to get a dress for the party. The puppy wanted a friend, so Despereaux bought another puppy. Despereaux named the new puppy Doggy Pal. Despereaux wanted a shirt because one of his friends ripped his. The puppy played catch and frisbee. They got hot and needed a drink. They went to the puppy food store and talked to the manager and he said it was in the back section. The puppies then went to Nana and Granddad's to play with other puppies. They dug in someone's yard. They went to the theater. They digged in the snow. They saw some treasure. They were going to hunt up a mountain. The puppy dogs digged three holes. They were gonna wear home treasure with their pretty dress.

The End.

Post-nursing ballad

Everybody now:

Do you boobs hang low?
Do they wabble to and fro?
Can you tie 'em in a knot?
Can you tie 'em in a bow?
Can you throw them over your shoulder like a continental soldier?
Do your boobs. hang. low?

Rhianna: (Disappointed) Momma, why is the world made of grass and mountains and trees and sky and clouds and roads and houses and dirt and (and this continued for about three minutes)?

Me: Well, what do you think the world should be made of?

Rhianna: Playgrounds. ...with a little playground for little kids.

Dude

Me: Finish up your burger dude, and then you can go outside.

Rhianna: Why do you call him "dude"?

Owen: Because I am a dude.

Nice.

Today I was running from the daycare to my car and my hair was swooping from side to side. The sensation reminded me of ...oh.. probably fourth or fifth grade. I'd put my hair in a pony tail and when I walked or ran, I'd shift my weight from side to side so that my hair swished all perfect and pretty like the cool high school girls.

Man. If I could have that energy back that I wasted such silly little details, I could run a marathon.

Wii cheat and other tidbits

To my kids, there are few things cooler than getting to play on the Wii. Dave and I splurged and got the new Wii Resort game over the weekend and figured out how to rig the controller so that the kids can bowl. They think they are pretty hot shit.

Isaac can now roll across the living room floor. Which is cool. Except that Rhianna and Owen have a bunch of play money that is the most recent toy-of-choice. Which means that Isaac pooped out $20 the other day. Yeah baby.

Construction is moving right along. Yesterday they cut the wall open for the new family room and holy God is it big. It's very surreal. There we go, marching up the stairs, down the hall, everything is normal right? And then you open the door to what, until last week, was the kids' shared bedroom. Now there are only two walls to the room and a giant hole that opens up to a framed, but obviously unfinished what-will-be-the-family-room. I imagine if the Truman Show were real, it's a lot like the feeling he would have had at the end when his little boat hit the edge of the set. Suddenly our house is a tv studio. Weird. Anyhow, the plan is to have much of the exterior (roof, siding, soffit, etc.) completed by the end of the week. Drywall should arrive Monday. Taping to begin Wednesday. Which basically comes down to two weeks before I have to know the colors I want the rooms. Yikes. It took me three months to pick a color for our bedroom and all the furniture was there WITH completed walls and carpet...and a bedspread to match.

Owen had a trial day at Rhianna's preschool last week and did well. He will move after his third birthday.

We are all over the flu. It was gross. Don't get it.

Ah. Monday.

It's 9:30 p.m. and I am the ONLY person in my house not sleeping. I'm tired and I should probably hop on the bedtime bandwagon but damn. Did I mention I'm the ONLY person awake? The house is MINE. And it's not even insomnia related. Shoot. I don't remember the last time this happened. I feel like I should do something incredible... like cure cancer or something. What to do with the time?! By god, it's a miracle. Do you realize I just typed, like... ten or so sentences without being interrupted? This is better than drugs. Well... maybe.

Another random note: Isaac is in the "how the hell did he get over there?" stage. He's not *really* mobile. He doesn't crawl or scoot or walk. I've never actually *seen* him move. But somehow he ends up, say, smooshed in the corner of his crib when I remember very clearly placing him completely centered. Or he's suddenly moved three feet to the left of where I placed him in the middle of the living room. This is the beginning of the danger zone because Rhianna and Owen really don't know how to keep their chokables out of Isaac's way -- especially since we all *think* he can't move. But then, how did he get the remote in his mouth? I swear that was two feet out of his reach.

Vacation

Here are a few moments from our vacation.

First, Isaac enjoys the lap of luxury know as "the king-sized bed Mom and Dad slept in at the luxury hotel." What could be more fun than the realization that one can reach his own toes? And seriously, is there a better thing to play with than the booger bulb? I don't think so.

This one shows Owen in my parents yard during some sprinkler fun. I was very impressed that Minnesota was not the normal humid, hot mosquito pit it normally is in July. And the kids enjoyed every (almost) bug-free moment they could. It was refreshing to let them go outside and just play. We didn't worry that they would be kidnapped or that they might get into something they shouldn't. They could just play. Too bad we had to drive 16.5 hours to get them to a place where they could have such freedom.

Ansel Adams eat your heart out. I love this image. My dad and Rhianna on the tractor. So how many of you remember Bill Cosby's bit on parenting? This was a key example of "these are not the parents who raised me."

Dad let both Owen and Rhianna drive the tractor. He manned the pedals, of course, but they were doing most of the steering. This is (supposedly) the same man and tractor that I was not allowed to drive until I was--wait for it--eighteen years old. Yes. I'm serious. I was doomed to upset the delicate pattern of the lawn mower tracks (like vacuum tracks but cooler) until I was legally permitted to vote, yet my son, who's idea of driving on a straight line brought his pirate-hat-made-from-newspaper wearing Granddad within one turn of barfing on his pristine lawn, was welcome to wrench the steering wheel from one extreme to the other. This could not be the same man who looked disapprovingly at my English papers. This is Granddad.

More trip details and thoughts to come, but this should tide you over for a day or so.

Boob as beverage

I've now nursed Isaac longer than any of the other children. That in itself, is unremarkable. However, I've noticed a very distinct change that I haven't experienced with the other kids.

Over the last few weeks, Isaac has started to prefer eating food during certain mealtimes. It's time of course. He's sitting up on his own, he's reaching for things, etc. All the regular milestones are in place. As opposed to my other children (who were weaned by this age), Isaac is still breastfeeding. He has bottles when I'm not around but otherwise nurses. Here's the weird part: I'm now the beverage to accompany the meal. Uhm. So, that's not going to work for me. It was one thing to nurse a helpless newborn who could neither hold up his own head nor register an opinion. This is another story. Isaac can now sit unassisted and grab things (and my body parts) intentionally.

Hmm...

Whew

Yesterday: Fabulous.

Today has been one of those (surprisingly rare) days during with I'm annoyed with the children because I feel they prevented me from enjoying the day. Usually they grant me fresh perspective and remind me to enjoy the ride. But today, I was running on fumes and the ride was a tattered county fair wooden rollercoaster ride during which I thought the supports might crumble beneath me at every turn.

Ah. Vacation.

The trip. So far.

Our trip has been pretty good so far. The drive was as good as I could have reasonably hoped for with three young kids. I had a few potentially embarrassing moments of trying to nurse Isaac while he was still plugged into his carseat. (Hey, I he wasn't taking the bottle and I figured it was safer for me to be half in a seatbelt than for him to be totally out of his. Sure, we could have stopped the car but making a 14.5 hour drive longer? yeah. I think not.) ....oh yeah, and it stopped the crying. He was really over being in the car by the end. (And I was exhausted at trying to entertain baby/children.) Rhianna and Owen did suprisingly well -- until the DVD player crapped out. FYI, there's a freaking awesome McD's playland in North Dakota (Exit 157) that truly saved our bacon. Yesterday, I went to my 10-year high school reunion. I wanted to go to see a few people and was curious what it'd be like. But honestly, once I got there, I didn't want to get out of the car. I don't know why. I really didn't like high school. Neither the experience nor the person I was then. And I guess I just didn't want to remember feeling so out of place and so compelled to impress people whose opinions always seemed to fall flat. Despite myself, I was nervous that I might attach some sort of validation (or lack thereof) for my life choices once I learned of other success. I'm very critical and I didn't want to end up leaving and feeling somehow like a failure because I hadn't done as much or as well as someone else. Anyway, the reunion was basically an informal gathering at a local park. I'm pleasantly surprised to report that it turned out pretty cool.

Many of the people I'd hoped to see didn't come. But a handful of people I was not expected to see provided great interest and conversation. We stayed for a couple hours -- the kids played and I talked to about 15ish people. They were cordial and I was actually quite thrilled to hear some of the success my former classmates have made for themselves. (There were moments I felt a little, "hmm. I really should getmymasters/makemoremoney/bemoresomething" for no reason except to be able to prove I'm just as good/happy/smart as someone (insert more popular person)" -- somehow these three things are all unfairly melded in my brain but it wasn't consuming.) I was pleased that, at least for a little while, there wasn't the cliques there once were. As the time when on, it seemed that people fell a little into their old groups and I began to again feel a bit out of place. But by then Rhianna had wacked herself with a golf ball, Owen had to go potty and Isaac needed a swig from the ole boob.

Not surprisingly, in then end I was chatting with the five other women who have taken the leap into motherhood. All previous barriers between us had clearly disintegrated once we started talking about baby poop and overbearing mother-in-laws. That was nice. The popularity game, the fact that I was (admittedly) a self-centered snot as a teenager, the career chase, it didn't matter. The playing field had clearly changed -- and we no longer seemed to be on different teams. How refreshing! And then I left. So it wasn't spoiled. Most people had done well for themselves -- found their place in the world. I was, I'll admit, a little shocked that we all looked so....uhm... grown up. And there was the group playing beer pong (uhm. I don't know what the normal age is to play beer pong, but I'm pretty sure I skipped it. I was never that age. I know I'm passed it -- but I'm not sure when it slipped by me.) and a good handful of the "popular" crowd who I never really talked to in HS and to whom I didn't speak during the event. And that's ok. One of the girls had a party last night but I decided we should stop while I was "ahead" (and by ahead I pretty much mean I was not pissed off or feeling bad about myself). That and we had to be up for Isaac's baptism this morning. So this morning we returned to the church in which Dave and I were married to have Isaac baptized by the same minister who married us and baptized the other two children. It was great. Seriously, he's F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C. I almost wish I lived here again so I could listen to his sermons regularly. Almost -- if it weren't for the bugs, the humidity, oh, and the fact that I've set up my life somewhere else. The rest of the day was calm but good. The kids played in the sprinklers in the yard, picked wild raspberries, and really enjoyed my parents. Only once (well, maybe one-and-a-half times) have I felt that Mom and my strong wills have started to clash. But it's ok. I haven't yet been consumed in being frustrated with her -- which is a record I think. Maybe I'm grown up after all. Tomorrow we're heading the Cities for a few days of fantastic, very-vacationy activities. The zoo, water park, Mall of America (potential amusement park), and children's museum. And I'm hoping a little shopping as well. Ok, here's a little confession. So I'm totally not a shopper and my fashion sense is non-existent. However, I had to get something nice to wear to the baptism. So I got a shirt and a necklace and looked decent today. My confession: I really liked feeling like I looked like I was born this decade. It's been a while since I bought clothes -- always feeling like I shouldn't buy anything because of pregnancy, pregnancy weight, or potential pregnancy -- or save money for the kids.

I should also report (mostly because I don't know where else to discuss it so why not the entire Internet) that I'm having a bit of a life crisis so this trip has come at a good time. I miss some of the city stuff. I love where we live, but I miss feeling more connected and in touch. I also miss church a bit.

But I don't miss bugs.

The power of typography

I'm impressed with the ability of typography to communicate beyond the sarcasm of the actual content.

Lukemia?

So Saturday morning, I come downstairs and am greeted by the rest of my family all happily doing their various activities. Rhianna gives me a big hug (always appreciated) but there is something wrong. What. Is. That. A huge purple bruise covers the top of her right arm.

"Where did you get that bruise Rhianna?"

"In bed."

My mind races. I didn't hear a thump, a whump, a cry, nothing. How could my little angel be hurt so obviously and not have a tail to tell -- let alone in bed? This is the same child who will show every stranger on the street her pathetic bleeding ouwie that we adults call a papercut. I was flumuxed. I assumed her four-year-old brain was filling in the gaps of some long-forgotten, but surely tramatic, life event that resulted in this silver-dollar sized blemish.

As the day went on, I stared at her arm, trying to figure out the mystery behind the "bed" bruise. What could cause unexplained bruising? Lukemia. A rare circulation problem. Someone is abusing her at school. Surely it wasn't from Dave or I although we do occassionaly grab her arm to get her attention or what have you. I thought of a bunch of potential causes, none of which seemed plausible. I couldn't figure it out. But as the day unfolded, it faded from my mind.

On Sunday morning, Rhianna appears with a matching bruise on her left arm.

"Where did that bruise come from Rhianna?"

Same response.

What was going on? She must have been perfecting some silent acrobatics on her bed. This seemed the most likely cause. Summersaults. Flips. Something. But how on earth would this lead to bruising above her biceps? And there had been no noise from her bedroom. Surely if she was a budding gymnast, we would her some sort of whump from these secret escapades. Something was amiss.

As I was staring at her at dinner that night, I figured it out. She was just sitting there at the table. and when I looked over at her, the parts all lined up. Her little face looking down at her plate; her arm propped on the table with fork in hand, just hovering above her food.

Did you figure it out?

How can a four-year-old cause self-inficted bruising on the top of her arms?

Yep. That's right. It happened in her bed alright. I should learn to trust her to tell the truth -- especially when it seems most implausible.

My little angel gave herself her first hickeys. Awesome.

Found this on a mommy blog today. Love it.

Mom: (while making child’s bed) “Why are there three little dried boogers stuck to the headboard of your bed?”

Kenzie: “I dunno mom. That’s weird. It was probably the booger fairy. She comes in your room at night while you are sleepin’ and steals your boogers.”

Mom: “Hmm. How do we keep her from doing that?”

Kenzie: “Spray her with Lysol. She will ’splode into pieces and go back to boogerland.”

Kenzie, 4

Stand by me.

Oh how true

Be sure to watch through the last 5 seconds. That's the clincher.

Checking in

Hoping to drop by here more often now that I'm finally finding a schedule with work/home/etc.


Thought of the day: (please send me any comments/thoughts you have on the matter)

Now that I'm back at work, things seem a little more "normal" for me. But I find myself a little miffed. I have no trouble clicking into work mode and being 100...well, at leat 90% focused on the task at hand. However, I find myself at the end of a day home with the kids and realize I've been checked out for much of the day. Why is it so much harder to tune into the kids and be 100% there with them at the time? I mean, it's totally unnecessary for me to check my email while they are eating breakfast. Why the hell do I do it? Frustrated. At the time, it doesn't seem to be a big deal. But at the end of the day, I feel like I diciplined, carted, taught, snuggled, comforted and fed children -- but not necessarily played with. I'm always a "person apart" from them and can't seem to get really engaged like I can at work where I lose track of time.

Thoughts?

Awesome thing my kid said today:

As she was playing with Owen, apparently she decided he had something wrong with him so they had to go to the doctor. She has a cell phone that she's talking into and says, "hello? Doctor? It's serious. My kid has a calorie." 

hehe :) 

Isaac James

He's HERE!

Our newest addition has finally arrived. He made a VERY fast entrance into the world last night at 10:32 p.m. measuring 8 lbs. and 21.25 inches -- by far my biggest child. As you can see, he has quite a bit of blonde hair. The delivery was eventful -- I'll have to fill in details later -- but the short story is that he came VERY fast. My epidural kicked in about when I pushed out the afterbirth. I was apparently "entertaining" to all present (read: sarcastic and mouthy). I progressed from 4 cm and 75% effaced to baby-out in less than an hour and was ready to push before they even laid me down after starting the epidural line. 

It hurt. 

A lot. 

After he came out, the nurses had to catch Dave who just about passed out. Then my blood pressure dropped as the placenta came out and my epidural kicked in and I about passed out. Several IV issues, another blood pressure drop and 6 hours later, we all arrived in the recovery room. A couple hours later the parade of doctors, nurses, grandparents and siblings began. 

It's been a very busy day. 

Dave and I will decide on a name tomorrow.

CASL

Well, after waiting this long, I think I'll keep my legs crossed until Sunday and get my February baby after all. Baby has dropped in the last 12 hours or so so I think he's probably on his way --- though I've had no real contractions today or anything that makes me think it will be tonight. So I'm thinking Sunday. (like I get to vote ha!) I'm feeling very ready at this point. My body is strained, but mostly I just want to meet him. I want to hold his little hands and see how big his feet are. I want to know how much he weighs and if he has as much hair as my heartburn would suggest (unless he looks like dianna ross, it won't be an even match).

In other news...

Fun Rhianna moment: She decided she wanted to spell "castle" so she sat at her doodle pad and sounded it out carefully and presented her fully-formed word to me. CASL. 

Freaking love that kid sometimes.

The mark of an Ashcraft: So a little after Rhianna was 2 years old, she fell and got about a quarter of an inch gash in the back of her head. It's fine now, but Dave also has a similar gash. This morning, Owen was christened with his mark. He schnocked his head on the bedside table when he was climbing off our bed. Bled like crazy -- and all over his hair too. What a pain. He was quickly over the shock and was mostly annoyed that I tried to keep him still to staunch the bleeding. All is well now, but that was a fun way to wake up this morning. 

39 weeks

3.5-4 cm, 60%. After membrane strippage, she put me down at 4 cm. Head's down but not super low. If I don't deliver before Wednesday of next week, they will induce me then.

Toddler duties

No. I haven't popped yet. And I'm getting a little annoyed at the people who actually SEE me and are like "haven't had that baby yet?" Uhm.... seriously? Could be the dumbest question ever. If I'd HAD the baby, I would (God willing) no longer look this pregnant, and I'd probably be carrying an infant. *eyeroll*

Anyway, my post today is just an observation. In my (pathetic and minimal) attempts to be more responsible, I have tried to reuse grocery bags. The problem up to this point is that I have the bags to reuse, they are in the car, but they rarely seem to make it into the store. Which means that by the time I get back to the car, I have more bags for the stash.

My revelation: Rhianna and Owen freaking LOVE being in charge of the bags. And THEY are much more likely to remember them. They pick their favorite colors and love to carry them in the store. Awesome. The moral of the story: you're responsibility is to make your toddlers responsible so you don't have to be saddled with the job. ha!

Waiting for labor sucks

I'm bored.

Updates

So I'll try to keep this as PG as possible. (read: stop reading now if you're going to be grossed out)

Wednesday night SOMEONE couldn't sleep so he woke me up for a little nighttime nookie. Which lead to ME being up for the next 3 hours with contractions while he slept peacefully. Huh. Go figure. Anyway, for about an hour they were 5 minutes apart, then they dropped to 7, then 10. So by 2:45 I knew that it wasn't the real thing but decided if they started up again I'd call the doc. At 5:30 they started again though pretty inconsistently. At 8 I called the doc to see if I could get checked — while I knew it wasn't real labor, I also was really hoping I hadn't stayed up all night for nothing. 

So (this is yesterday morning now) I went in and got checked by one of the docs. She wasn't my regular doc but she put me at 3cm and 60% effaced and that my cervix is soft but said the baby was still high. So I gained a cm. Poo.

Oh well. I just found out that my Granddad's birthday is Monday so maybe that should be the day. That could be kinda cool.

Oh! And I'm officially "unplugged" for those of you who know what that means. It could mean nothing but as I'm now in a happy-to-deliver mental state, I'm taking it as a sign that the baby will come before March :)

Oh, and officially huge

Oh, another noteworthy measurement was the belly distance -- never made it THIS huge before. I measured in at 36 cm. The hugeness certainly makes sense as my belly button is actually starting to pop which has never happened before—hope that doesn't mean I'm due for more stretchmarks!

No progress

Well, that's not completely true, I did go from 1-2 cm to an "easy" 2, but I'm not holding my breath with that. She actually put me at 60% effaced today instead of the 75% she thought last week so.... I'm thinking I'm pretty much the same as last week. I am at -1 "station" (not sure what last week was) and the head is "definitely down." She said the bag of waters is right there. She asked if we wanted to induce after 39 weeks and I told her we'd wait and see. Nothing seems unbearable at all for me at this point so that seems kinda silly. My next appointment is scheduled for next Wednesday so I guess we can talk about it then if I make it that far. Easily could. Easily couldn't. Not in my control and... I think I'm ok with that. My ankles are starting to swell a little bit.

No symptoms of impending labor at all at this point. Will keep you posted!

No more ice cream

This morning I find myself very annoyed to be AWAKE at 3:17am. I'm fairly confident that the ice cream I had for desert is to blame but it makes me nonetheless very crabby. For the last few days I've been tired but unable to really sleep and, pushing 38 weeks, that is just stupid. Why on earth won't my body savor every opportunity to sleep in these last few weeks? Because I was dumb enough to fill it with sugar. I have no one to blame but myself and that's irritating. 

I'll post an update when I have one -- I have a checkup to...DAY (I was going to say tomorrow, but who am I kidding) mid morning so I should know by noon if I'm "progressing." I put that in quotes because yesterday I backtracked to see where I was with Owen about this time -- 4 cm and 80% -- and that didn't seem to indicate labor. Though the whole progression deal has followed more with Rhianna's birth than Owen's (my general health included) so we'll see. I should know by now that until they plug you into the epidural, nothing is for sure.

I have happily moved mentally to a place where I'm ready to have this baby. I'm not entirely exhausted at the thought of being pregnant for a little while longer (though I'm still not game for pushing 42 weeks) but the idea is now exciting and happy to me rather than sad and nostalgic. I think the major shift was related to getting some loose ends tied up here and there. We have things "ready" now. The carseat is out, the bed is made, and I'm about as ready as one can get for a bruised bottom and let-down pain. Though I'm not going to ask the doc to break my water or anything, I'm ready to get this show on the road. 

As for the appointment, I'm not expecting much. Last weekend I knew that stuff was happening down there. This week has yielded little results I think. I guess we'll find out soon enough. No impending labor signs that I can tell though. Looks like I'll be pregnant at least another... 12 hours :) 

lab test

So after my high blood pressure reading, I had to have blood drawn. Something was low and something was high so I had to pee in a jug for 24 hours. Awesome. What's most exciting about that prospect is that, at 37 weeks, pregnant, I get up about every hour in the middle of the night to pee. Well, the jug has to be refrigerated SO, I had to get up, go downstairs, pee in the toilet-insert-thingy, pour it in the jug in the fridge, wash out the insert-thingy, and go back to bed. Yeah. Did that NINE times between 10:30pm and 6:30 this morning (which was 15 minutes before Owen woke up for the day). I feel very rested today. Hope I don't go into labor because I might fall asleep while pushing.

Anyhow, I dropped off my jug late this morning and should get whatever results back this afternoon. I'll keep you posted!

Oh. boy.

So now that we're out a car and daycare, there's really only a few more panicky things than can happen right?

Appointment today: almost 2 cm dialated, 75% effaced and blood pressure is high and they are going to watch carefully. They decided I looked "a little poofy" but not yet "stay-puff marshmellow-man." I informed them that bedrest is not a good option for a mother of a 2 and 3 year old.

Doc said, "you probably don't need to have your bag in the car, but you definitely need to have it packed and ready to go."

So. Yeah. I'm not ready to have a baby right now.

The end of an era

Picture from Sara's wedding on January 3rd. Rhianna insists that she and Owen dance properly to the slow songs. I'm biased of course, but it's freaking adorable.


This week has put me in a somber mood. At least I think that's the adjective I'm looking for.... maybe nostalgic? I've woken up every day feeling, "no, it's not going to happen today, phew." Not that I really know that when I get up in the morning, but still, I have the hunch. And then I realize that this day may well be the last -- or certainly one of the last -- days I'm pregnant. Ever. This is a new feeling. Maybe it's because this baby has been kinder to me in the last bits of this pregnancy than earlier on -- or maybe it's because I know this is the end -- but it certainly is strange. In an odd way, I'm going to miss it. Right now, it's all between me an baby. Only I know when he's awake and only I have any insight into who he is. I don't know much of course, but I am the only one privy to that information and there's something special in that. Maybe this is why people like being pregnant. It's my own selfish moment I guess when I'm the only one who is in the know and is doing it all for him. And of course, when it's time, he'll come out and I'll welcome the help and support of all those around me -- and share in everything. But for now, it's just me. And him. And we're together.

But soon it will be done. And he'll meet the world and I'll be beside him or behind him instead of all around. And that will be ok too. But this feeling of... motherhood and peace is new to me. I'm not consumed in annoyance that I'm huge and unbalanced (physically and mentally) but instead kind of "awww.... well, I suppose life moves on but this has been pretty good. I hope you are as kind on the outside as you've been the last few weeks."

On that note, this baby definitely has a different personality in his movement. Kind is the only way I can describe it. No bruising rib kicks like Rhianna and no major flip-flops like Owen. Just wiggles and elbows. Big movements, but calm -- and not the whole body, but parts at a time -- like feet one minute, then arms once he feet are in place. Not bad. I think he's bony though. Seems like he has more corners :)

Comment of the day is from Barb, a secretary in our building and grandmother of two, "How are you do.... well, you really HAVE dropped." Yes. I have. And I can eat again thanks to the new-found room in my stomach.

Sheesh!

Yesterday morning at 9AM a mom from daycare called. "Have you heard?" 

"Heard what?"

"Daycare is closed permanently at 5:30 PM today. If you don't get their stuff, it will be sealed in the building." 

Awesome. 2009, you're kicking our ass man. 

So actually, this turn of events might be good news for our family -- just inconvenient. We've been thinking of switching to a part-time nanny once #3 is ready for daycare for cost reasons so this might just push the issue. We also had intended to keep the kids in school while I was on leave so that they didn't loose their spots, but maybe this way we can save a few bucks and just use some sitters -- or a nanny if we find the right person -- instead. 

But still, wow. It seems like anything unexpected can and will happen this year. There's something in the air I guess. As I was dealing with this issue as best I could yesterday, the real kick was when I actually fell on my rump on some slick porch stairs. I mean really, was that necessary?

Pregnancy news: Baby has definitely dropped. I was able to eat spaghetti last night with no heartburn and I can almost get out of bed without grunting. Had a fair amount of braxton hicks yesterday. Still hoping to hold out for February.

36 week checkup

So today was the big checkup and.... drumroll.... I'm still pregnant. Ha! 

I gained no weight (???) since my last appointment on Christmas Eve -- so, I guess stress burned the calories of that loaf of Amish friendship bread that I didn't allow anyone else to have a slice of. Anyway. I shouldn't complain I guess. And though at my last visit I measured 31 cm, today I topped off at 30 -- though a girlfriend did insist this morning that the baby's dropped. Anyhow, Since I'm supposed to be somewhere around 36 cm, the doc ordered an ultrasound to make sure everything is going as scheduled. Otherwise everything is fine. I'm at 1cm dialated and 50% effaced -- which I think is right about what I was with Rhianna.

The u/s went well. Baby BOY (for sure, as you can see below, there is no question at this point) is measuring at 36 weeks and 1 day which is only 2 days "off" my actual due date. In other words, he's just right. It was actually pretty cool to see him again today -- since he's so much bigger, most things we couldn't see, but his face was nice and plump and he was opening and shutting his mouth which was really cute. 

In non-pregnancy related new, 2009 continues to be rough. They laid off our photographer and are going to announce FTE cutbacks Friday or Monday. Luckily, my job seems secure, but my coworkers futures are uncertain and in jeopardy to a certain extent. Aside from the photographer, the cutbacks seem, at this point, to be intended only until the end of the fiscal year (June/July) but we'll see. It's more than just a little frustrating because it feels that the people who made the poor financial decisions and put our department in such dire straights will be unaffected by the resolution. I suppose that's how the world works -- as we're seeing with our country's current financial crisis -- but is no less infuriating knowing that. 

I'm hoping tomorrow can be a fresh start for my 2009 mothering. I feel that I've been short tempered with the kids and not given them the attention they deserve. Tomorrow I have no duties that must be done though except to pay attention to them. Freelance will wait. Work can wait. It's time to see the whites of their eyes again and, if necessary, institute a family nap in the afternoon. 

My resolution

2009, in all honesty, has been a difficult year already. I have a feeling this year will be a test of our own constitutions, our marriage, and our ability to see the silver lining. Suddenly overwhelmed at the prospect of being a new mother (again), my mind is a swirl of to-do lists and anxiety about all-things-I-can't control. 

But there are indeed is a silver lining if you can see it. Going to bed on Friday, Dave and I both confided that we were not looking forward to Saturday's plans -- to attend a good friend's wedding -- because we just felt glum and wanted to save the occasion for a time we felt we could really enjoy it. Regardless, the event was scheduled and we would go rain or shine. The morning was consumed by taking Caesar to the vet -- one of the so-far 2009 dingers was to wake up to him at 5 a.m. not only barfing all over, but pooping blood too, yikes! Luckily, it sounds like he probably just has some kind of bacterial infection and should recover after a short run of antibiotics and an anti-puking shot. He was surprisingly well behaved in the vet's office -- a place that usually sends him into a heaving panic attack. 

Anyhow, after getting his diagnosis, I felt a little more chipper. My pregnant brain had spent the morning snowballing pet concerns ranging from having to put him down to toxoplasmosis. So we took him home, had a calm lunch, and thought about putting the kids down for their nap. I took a long bath and tried to shave my legs. I'm pretty sure I got most of it, but I make no promises for consistency above the knee as I pretty much can't see or get to that area easily. Though she sometimes just lays there since she is starting to wean from her nap, Rhianna slept well for about an hour. Owen, who desperately needs a nap, did not sleep at all. Meanwhile, I'm getting dressed in a makeshift outfit I've put together from various pregnancies -- still a little bummed that the nice shirt my mom and sister got for me for Ali's wedding no longer fits. It turns out my boobs are substantially bigger than they were in November -- which frankly surprises me. They don't seem bigger. My belly is freaking rotund, but my boobs? Huh. Oh well. Anyway, luckily I had something that worked. So the kids are up, we get them dressed and pile into the Suburu headed to the wedding (more van issues, but I'd rather not talk about that). 

We're all in relatively good spirits and, despite the circumstances, I really like driving the Suby. As we walk in for the wedding ceremony, the first person I saw was a man who's wife used to work in my office. She died almost 2 years ago from a very sudden and serious cancer. He sat alone at the end of a row of chairs and my first silver-lining moment hit me. Maybe it's selfish, but I had a rush of emotion as I'm surrounded by my two and 3/4 children and husband. We're all alive and thriving. The night before I was thinking how annoyed I was that I have to be a strong emotional person when I really just want to break down and cry (hormonal overload, don't be too concerned) and then I look at this man who HAS to be strong, every single day, because his kids are counting on him. It's more than I can imagine to go to a wedding when you're still grieving over your own spouse. To hear them talk about raising a family and living a life together, and be there, alone, to go home to raising your children without your other half -- their other half. So right as we walked in, I had a suck-it-up moment. Things just aren't so bad. Sure, the next two months are completely out of your control, but they are destined to be filled with happy moments. 

I looked back and saw the bride. She looked beautiful and overwhelmed. The perfect bride. I mouthed a quick, "you ok?" and she gave me the, "yes, but don't ask me again or I might lose it" cue. I was assured that all was well and went to find our seats. We found an almost-empty row. At the end sat a good friend of the bride's who would be singing during the ceremony. She also sat alone as her soon-to-be-ex-husband and 5-year-old daughter were not accompanying her. Another silver-lining moment for me. Not only are we alive and healthy, but we are happily married and feel strong together. I have confidence that when I can't pull it together, Dave will or we'll be able to muster some sanity between the two of us to deal with whatever's at hand. 

Sara thought through just about every word in the ceremony making it very personal and intentional. Knowing how much work she put into it made it that much more special. And the minister told a story about making sure, when you feel consumed in getting all the i's dotted and the t's crossed, not to let life pass you by. "Don't miss the marvels," she said. Yes. That just about sums it up. A good outlook for what is sure to be a challenging year. As I'm walking down a path filled with lots of uncertainty, the few things I know ahead of me are easy to bog down my outlook. Sore boobs, little sleep, crying, spitup, poop, laundry, tantrums, etc. But there will also be first smiles, tickle fights, pants-without-elastic-waistbands, and a million other joys if I can just remember to relish them.

Between the ceremony and the reception, we went to a store to waste a little bit of time. The kids were testing. Napless Owen left his big-boy manners somewhere else so the pause between wedding festivities was less than joyous. Nonetheless, we continued on to the reception without much fanfare. Cue your typical wedding reception, greetings of "you must be the super-pregnant friend," (yes, that's me, 4-5 weeks, thanks for asking,) and the declining of what would have been greatly appreciated drinks. 

And then, the best part of the evening begun. Ok, not to say this wasn't a lovely reception, but my fun didn't really begin until the dancing begun. There were quite a few kids there and they danced a bit before the tradition bride/groom dances, but once everyone was out there, my kids went nuts. They were freaking awesome. I think they danced to every song (minus potty breaks and the disco song -- and who can blame them) from 7ish until just before 10p.m. As Sara put it, "(we're) in trouble when they get older because they are going to party like rock stars." They politely asked other kids to dance, did their traditional brother/sister dance where Rhianna insists that Owen put his hand on her shoulder so they can be like the grown-ups, did the chicken dance, country, rock, and when Owen wasn't really into a song, he did laps around the dance floor stopping at all the flooring intersections to check the seams. They didn't stop, they danced with anyone who was willing, and they outlasted all but a pair of 8-year-old girls -- including the bride, groom and most of the guests. Moments like that remind me that, in the end, putting up with the tantrums is PROBABLY worth it *wink*. 

Owen passed out in the three seconds between when we got him in his carseat and left the parking lot. Rhianna held her eyes open until she got her pjs on but didn't hesitate to snuggle in her bed. Dave and I talked a little and went to bed. When number three woke up wanting to join the dance party, part of me was just so exhausted that I was frustrated that I couldn't go to sleep until he calmed down. But the silver lining was there. Everyone is safe and enjoying each other. And there are only a few more weeks during which an awake infant won't be accompanied by a lot of ...ehem... noise. And during the four times Owen would wake up screaming bloody murder over the next 8 hours, I tried to keep the image of he and Rhianna in the middle of a circle of "gwown-ups" dancing with more rhythm and enthusiasm than most everyone there. 

So here's to the silver lining, may I keep it in my sights for 2009.

As far as the pregnancy goes, things are fine. I think I'm bigger than I've ever been belly-wise. I've gained about the same amount of weight I did with Owen and probably not quite as much as I did with Rhianna. My belly button is starting to pop out a little bit which has never happened to me before so that's a bit strange. I can no longer bend over without an involuntary grunt -- a sure sign we're approaching the home stretch. I'm starting to have more sensation in my pelvis and he's definitely sinking down in there. Wednesday they will check me for dialation and all that and I begin my weekly checkups. I suddenly feel like I should eat constantly -- and with little disgression (sp?). Everything sounds appetizing. I'm not sleeping very well and my legs have started shaking a bit again which is annoying because I'm taking the iron that was recommended. Hopefully it won't get much worse because it would be nice not to be completely exhausted of pregnancy for a little while longer -- and nothing does that like lack of sleep. So to sum up, I'm huge, I'm hungry, but I'm not quite ready for this to be over. Not that I love being pregnant, but I think we need a little calm before the storm of a newborn. A little basking in the life of the four of us before we become 5. Well, maybe not so much basking as the comfort of routine. 

Still no name, starting to wonder if this is actually a girl and not a boy. Took the carseat out of the box. Washed baby clothes. So... vaguely ready for him to arrive. But not really. I have a long list of to-dos and to-gets before the big event. Hopefully I can chisel that down. If not, we'd be fine, but it would be nice to feel more prepared. Hey at least I've held a newborn before right?