A Little Laney Bean Anecdote

Just wanted to share this cute little tidbit before it got lost in the shuffle:

Teaching a little girl how to properly put on her undies can be tricky sometimes. Three holes in the material and two legs to place correctly often turns up some.. interesting.. configurations. Usually I tell Laney to find the bow on the front and that helps her put them on the right way. But not all little girls' panties have bows on the front. So I'll say, look for the tag, the tag goes in the back. But, again, not all panties have tags in the back. Most notably, baby gap panties. Their tag, for whatever reason, is in the front. And off-center.

Totally confusing for my little girl.

The other day I caught her running around with her gap panties on backwards. It was ridiculously cute and funny, particularly if you get a kick out of wedgies.

I laughed a little as I said to her, "Elayna, come here, baby, I can see your butt crack! Let me help you fix it."

She whipped her head around and stared at me with utter dismay.

"OH NO!!!", she cried, "My butt is CRACKING!"

Oh my. Poor little thing. Took a while to convince her that her rear end, was, indeed, just fine and that there was definitely NOT a need for a great big band-aid.

Forty Weeks

Oh Look, according to my cute little ticker, it is "go time".

Someone should inform this little pumpkin here all cozy and comfy inside my belly. She has apparently missed the memo.

There is NOTHING going on here. Not a single contraction all day. And for someone who has had weeks of prodromal labor/Braxton Hicks/non-productive contractions - this almost seems a cruel joke.

No. No, I will choose instead to believe this is simply the calm before the storm. A reprieve to recharge the ole' batteries. A much needed rest.

Although, according to the multitudes of moms who have been there and done that (albeit many, many years ago) all I really need to do is push a car, shovel snow, or walk 20 miles and voila! labor will inevitably happen. I just have to stop being so dern lazy about it.

I still remember the utter exhaustion of the 30 hr. labor to get Joshua and well, I guess my philosophy is that I would much rather go into labor (which I WILL, when my body is ready to) well rested than right after wearing myself out. Call me crazy.

So...

What do you do when it's your due date and there's no sign of a baby and it's hot and humid outside?

GO SWIMMING!!! And no, I don't mean laps at the pool...

I'm talking floating on your back on a caribbean blue body of water while your whole body relaxes, listening to the water lapping around you and smelling the white pines on the shore.

See ya on the far side...

My Dear Letters

Sorry people, my patience is beginning to wear thin along with the skin of my stretched out belly button. And... I know it comes as a shock to you all, but my humor is getting harder and harder to find as well.

It's here somewhere.

They say it shows up while I'm in labor. That I crack witty remarks about stuff.

Good to know. Not that I'd really feel bad if I were completely sarcastic and rude for ONE DAY OF MY LIFE. (erm, X 4...)

Okay. Glad I got that off my chest.

Anyway, thought I'd share some random rantings with you in the form of My Dear Letters since I haven't done that in a while!


Dear Twert,

Stop barking at Grandma and Grandpa. They've been here for 6 weeks. They are not strangers. They are not threatening your yard or your "domain" in any way. You would think that by now I would be completely immune to your startling yaps, but no. I still nearly jump out of my skin when I'm peacefully reading a book and you yap so hard you fall off the back of the couch next to me.

Seriously. If I had wanted a motion detector I would have bought one instead of adopting a mutt with an overbite and a serious case of Small-Dog syndrome. You are NOT a doberman. And while we're at it - STOP peeing on the planters on the porch!!!

signed: a-nerves-on-edge-already-Ewok-owner


Dear Elayna,

I'm so very happy that you have decided finally to be a big girl and use the toilet. But again, I have to give you the same advice I gave Twert - please stop peeing on the porch!!! I know it's you because I recognize the cute little new big-girl panties I bought last week sitting in the middle of the puddle, so while you may say, "It wasn't me, Momma!" I kinda know better.

signed: a-slightly-chagrined-"Watch-that-first-step!"-hope-it-rains-soon-Lisa



Dear 10-Fingered and 10-Toed Monsters,

I know it's terribly exciting to be the one who gets to find the treasures in the mailbox. Really, I do. In fact, until you all discovered it, it was one of the highlights of my day. I enjoyed stepping out of the house, removing myself from the craziness all around to take a few deep breaths and listen to the birds chirping in the trees.

And then you found out sometimes mail comes *gasp* addressed to YOU KIDS!!! Suddenly there is a race to the mailbox every afternoon and I am constantly wondering if ALL the mail came in in your grubby little hands or... not. But the best part? The best part is randomly finding pieces of mail that I have tried to mail OUT strewn about the yard. Or, worse yet, OPENED. Like when I found the car payment in the irises. Or rather, the envelope for the car payment. Torn up. And completely missing the check and the stub. Not cool. Not cool at all. Unless you want to hitchhike to school, the car payment does, in fact, need to be paid. Please keep this in mind for all future reference.

signed: a-slightly-harried-mom-who-doesn't-enjoy-picking-up-bits-of-mail-from-the-yard-TYVM.



Dear Bathroom Scales:

I realize we have always had a love/hate relationship, but I have to admit, I think you are giving me mixed signals right now and I'm confused. I can't decide if you are being genuinely nice or if you are conspiring to embarrass me. If you are being nice, please clue in the mirror. The mirror says I should have gained 40 lbs in order to look as...ENORMOUS...as that. YOU however, tell me I have gained WAY less than that, so you tell me - WHO'S LYING here?! I'm inclined to think the mirror. She lies a lot. Kind of like cameras. Deceitful little things, the whole lot. If they've sucked you into playing some sort of cruel joke on me I may have to take you all out and let the children use you to play "paleontologist". It may take them years to find where I've buried you. Don't mess with a hormonal woman. Especially when it comes to her weight. I'm just warning you.

signed: an-I-don't-REALLY-talk-to-my-scales-(usually)-Lisa




Dear Old Biddies That Work At Children's Stores,

WHY?! What on earth draws you to take a job or own a store that deals with children when CLEARLY you do not like the little critters touching your things. WHY? Seriously. There is a good reason why my children will never do any bear-building in our local mall. I have taken a vow to never darken your door again. Okay. I MIGHT be a little oversensitive on that one - seeing as how the only incident involving said store happened right after Joshua's surgery and I was still in total Mother Bear mode, and it's quite possible I am still overreacting but who really needs a bear, anyway?

Please.

And to the other Old Biddies in other stores: There is just something so passive-aggressive about telling my children what they need to do or not do when I am STANDING RIGHT THERE! Do you have a problem looking me in the eye while you tell me I need to advise my children against doing XYZ? Really. The only reason I'm allowing it is because I was either distracted by the sales rack or hadn't yet noticed the sign. You don't need to get all huffy about it. Yep, I fully admit that I avoid your store on Tuesdays and Fridays. If I can figure out what other shifts you work I'll avoid those too.

- signed: Mama Bear



Dear Fellow Pregnant Women About To Pop:

Stop with the whole, "I'm SOOOOO Done being pregnant" thing. Stop acting like you're the only ones in the whole world who are THAT uncomfortable in the last 8 weeks of pregnancy. Stop excusing your early inductions and your do-anything-and-everything-humanly-possible-to-bring-on-labor daily routine that starts the minute you hit 35 weeks. Stop accusing those of us who don't post ourselves at the door of the maternity ward and beg someone to give us pitocin at 37 weeks of being crazy, insane, or of having an "easier" time of it. Trust me, we don't. We live our daily lives JUST like you do and with the same amount of pain, discomfort, and inconvenience. But seriously, when did it EVER become an issue of comfort or convenience?!

I don't enjoy the constant pain, but neither does how miserable I am factor in any way what direction my birth plan is going to take. This baby will come when she is ready to come and that doesn't mean I won't have to put up with miserable nights, constant pain, aching, peeing, swelling, etc, etc. etc. Yeah, it won't kill me. Why would you ever choose to not put up with your own discomfort for the sake of your baby's health? Do some reading up on how babies born even before 39 weeks have higher rates of ADD/ADHD/Dislexia and how few problems actually arise for women waiting until 42 weeks to deliver. And then - RELAX. Have patience. Get a massage or something. And please stop accusing me of having it easier than you.

signed: Been-There-And-Done-That-too-many-times-to-buy-that.


Okay, well as you can see I'm now starting to get myself all worked up like an old wet hen, so I'd better end this now before it gets too carried away!

My Little Emmy - Future Entomologist

My Emmy-girl is quite a character.

She is quick to laugh (quite the infectious laugh,too!)...


...and quick to cry.


A bit of a prankster.


With a reeeaaaally short fuse MAYBE a bit of a quick temper.


Wonder how that's going to go in the teenage years.


Well, any way you look at it, life with her is always fun!


Because this is one fearless girl who is ALWAYS on an adventure!


Always ready to try whatever pops into her head fascinating new ideas.. (like creating new hair styles)


..has always been my little artiste...


...my SCARY little T-Rex (making her big brother oh-so-proud!)...


.. and even finding a quiet moment here or there to do one of her very favorite things: put together a puzzle (of a spider, of course).


Somehow she still finds the time to be a fashionista and loves her princess dresses! Especially if they're PINK!


Like her PINK "GRANKIES"


And while she has always been MY little butterfly, little did I know how far her love for critters would go!


It all started with Twert...


...and her love of the horses...


...then we got a cat...



...or two.


But domesticated critters were never enough for my girl! Especially when there were frogs to catch!


Even right in our own yard!


Yes, and even the dead, crispy frog needed to be brought in to examine and (eventually) bury. Kind of like the dead bird... and then the dead mouse that was exhumed several times for good measure. Yes, we go through A LOT of soap around here.


On any given day, you can find Emmy with some sort of bug in her clutches. Mostly flies. Flies are her favorite. She is not afraid of any bug (well, maybe a little afraid of lady bugs) and bugs are not afraid of her! Flies land on her and let her catch them! Grasshoppers sit on her fingers! Even spiders know right where to find a kind soul to let them out instead of squish them. Beetles, worms, crickets, you name it, Emmy has befriended it. She is heartbroken when they inevitably die or escape from wherever she has stashed them (We won't even get into that kind of fun topic for now).
Today, it is this little fellow: a moth that currently resides in a container in the kitchen.



Yep, she says she will be a paleontologist just like her brother (aren't big brothers the COOLEST?!), but I think entomologist is a much more likely path for my little bug girl!

Kindy Graduation

So.

I know this is old news, but it took me a long time to get some decent pictures of Josh in his graduation suit to go with the THREE absolutely awful fairly decent pics I got from the actual night of graduation.

Seriously, the lighting in that little auditorium is horrid. It sucks the light from your flash and it gets lost in the black hole of the curtain behind everyone or something. NO ONE can get good pics in there. Well, unless you're the woman sitting in front of me on your iphone getting ridiculously lovely pictures like it's the easiest thing in the world.

So the evening started at around 3:30 pm. Well, for us anyway. First I had to get all the kids cleaned up from playing out in the dirt all day, so in the wash they went. The girls splashed around for a bit before I scrubbed Elayna, washed her hair, and pulled her out of the tub. Always an easy thing to do while kneeling in front of a deep tub with a big belly in front of you.

Then it was Emmy's turn. Except there are times with Emmy that try the soul make me want to scream make life... interesting. Now and then she becomes so absolutely paranoid that some water may get into her eyes that she refuses to have her hair washed (um, not that I give her a choice - but washing anyway DURING a meltdown is time consuming and exhausting. SOmething had to change). We've come up with a fairly equitable solution to this - she gets to have a shower. Now, mind you, she is SO paranoid that a drop of water will get into her eyes that a shower with a million tiny droplets all attacking her at once from above does NOT thrill her little soul. But IF I give her a washcloth to cover her face in time to prevent this I can sometimes prevent a meltdown. And then I wash her hair. Quickly, before the water soaks through the washcloth.

The first few times I did it I got so wet standing outside the tub with the curtain wide open I might as well have just undressed and jumped in with her. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have this big round thing on the front of me insisting on being in range of the shower no matter how hard I tried to find a creative way to stand so it wouldn't. I tried standing sideways like I do when I'm washing dishes at the kitchen sink, but really, the last thing anyone wants when a four year old is having a meltdown is a very pregnant lady standing next to a tub completely off balance: "Mommy, why did you fall on me in the shower and squish me until my arm broke?" Yeah. Not a good idea.

Now I have at least figured out how to draw up the shower curtain, tuck it into my clothes like a bib at a crawfish extravaganza and voila! bathe the kid without bathing myself. Sometimes. Unless it comes loose mid-wash.

Anyway, this was before I figured out how to do it without getting drenched, so by the time I was done with the girls I was pretty damp myself. A little on the front, and a lot under the arms. I needed a shower, too, but I'd already had one earlier that day, and time was getting short. Time to put on some more deodorant and make dinner.

Josh hopped in the shower while I desperately tried to think of something for dinner.

Dinner.

Dinner.

What to make for ... dinner.

You know how sometimes when you're pregnant you get... TOO hungry? And then NOTHING sounds good at all?

I was there.

I called Colby in a wild attempt to get him to understand the seriousness of the situation. I cried. I pleaded. I growled. I needed food. I needed it now, and I definitely needed to NOT cook it myself.

He brought home a pizza.

5 minutes before we needed to leave.

My darling little children, all dressed, hair done, shoes on, ready to go (did I mention DRESSED?) then had to be stripped down before the pizza noshing began.

Which task was left to me so DH could get cleaned up and dressed himself.

Ten seconds before walking out the door I realized.... I was STILL wearing my old ratty t-shirt and maternity jeans!!

Um... had I brushed my hair AT ALL that day?!

Oh. Dear. I changed quickly into something halfway decent, grabbed the brush and make up bag and ran out the door. Er. Waddled out the door. Rather slowly.

About 2 minutes before our arrival (slightly late, I might add) the realization my boy was graduating from kindergarten combined with heat, hormones, and stress and the water works began.

**SIGH**

We quickly found the rest of the family and sat down while Josh skipped on over to the rest of his classmates and got ready to start the ceremony. He marched up on stage and took his seat, along with 4 other graduating kinders and 1 graduating 8th grader.



I had no idea the rest of the school was going to be there.

Or that there would be an entire recital of all the songs the kids had learned, a piano recital, readings, individual singing, a game show.... etc., etc., etc.

It was an hour and a half before the actual, you know, GRADUATION part.

Okay, to be honest, the extra time to compose myself was a GOOD thing. Not being prepared to entertain a 3 year old and a 4 year old through that - not so good. Also not so good: not being QUITE at the end of a row and having a not really : barely potty trained kid, a little girl, and a pregnant woman using the bathroom every 10 minutes. Plus I kept getting up to TRY and get some pics of what was going on up there. I apologized profusely to the poor lady on the end after everything was done. She pretended not to hear me. I can't say that I blame her.

Anyway, the best part of the ceremony was when the Kindergarteners were featured in the singing of the Alphabet Song. They were already standing in front of the microphone at center stage after reciting their poem. The rest of the students filed in behind them and took their place. The music began. It was supposed to go like this: Whole school sings through once, only kindergarteners sing through second time, followed by whole school singing through together a third time.

How it went: Joshua finds himself standing DIRECTLY in front of mic. Joshua sings loudly. Joshua pretty much has Alphabet Song solo, drowning out singing nicely through all three times with his mouth 2 inches from the mic. By the second time through snickers went through the audience. By the third the not so furtive glances at his parents accompanied some hearty guffaws. Ah, well. He was doing his best, and for once - being HEARD. I couldn't help but giggle a bit myself as he belted it out.



Afterward we had cake, cookies, and punch at the reception. Then we were taken out to McDonald's for smoothies by the grandparents and great-grandparents of the graduate. After the smoothies, Josh was given an ice cream cone by the staff at McD's. Yeah. Yeah, it was a bit difficult to get them to sleep that night, even after an hour at the play place.

On the drive home I looked down at the suit jacket on my lap. There, pinned to his lapel, was my son's very first boutonniere. It was a perfect little white daisy, with a tiny bit of a fern behind it.

Oh. Oh dear. NO!!! NOT the HORMONES - AGAIN!!!

I couldn't help it. I burst into sobs and grasped around through the tears for the leftover McDonald's napkins. It was no use. There was no stopping the tide.

Next time my little boy wears a boutonniere, he'll be taking some girl he's sweet on to some sweetheart banquet, or worse yet, to his own wedding!

When the car stopped my little boy climbed up into my dwindling lap and hugged me tight. An interesting conversation ensued, and soon he reassured me he would NEVER want to leave home. Even when he's 30. I laughed between my tears, but he did not see the humor in it at all. Pretty soon he was crying too, wondering why I'd ever WANT him to leave home when he's 30.

Way to go, Momma, way to go.

My boy:


...is all boy:


and what a handsome one, too!


LOVE the black and whites!


Aww!!! He looks so... little. So sweet.


Every day I am thankful for a big brother like this for my soon to be three girls!

Third Trimester Top Ten

The Non-TMI Version of Top Ten Reasons to Enjoy the Third Trimester

Okay, so if you've ever been to the third trimester, or been married to a woman who has been to the third trimester, you know without a shadow of a doubt there could be a "Top 100" of TMI reasons to love the third trimester.

But this is a public blog, after all, and so I'll spare the innocent few the gory details.

I DO think those gory details would be a great addition to any high school sex ed. class though. It would be a great push for abstinenece, especially if you got a GROUP of seasoned mothers all sitting around telling the high school girls their birth stories of pushing out nine pound babies, showing their stretch marks or c-section scars, describing cracked nipples, and perhaps sharing a vivid memory or two of the joys of hemorrhoids.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, top ten.

10. Exhaustion - Dude. I'm tired when I wake up, tired when I eat lunch, tired when I pass out on the chair after bribing the kids with a video to SIT STILL and BE QUIET for 15 minutes and tired when I go to bed. I kept telling God that I'd be SO happy to have another baby if I could just, you know, still feel good and ready to go and be energetic (you know, how you feel when your youngest is 2 1/2 and you remember what it's like to actually sleep through the night for several nights in a row) but He totally didn't listen to me. Apparently He looked down and said, "Ah, she'll be happy anyway." Which is true. But still.

9. Swollen Feet/Hands - Yes, I realize how sexy the sausage-toe look is these days, but then couple that with having NO shoes that fit anymore and resorting to flip flops in many colors and I REALLY have it going on. I hate having to take my ring off, though. So I bought this big ole' engagement ring of the century lookin' thing on sale at JCPenney's and try to wear that when I'm out. Except it catches on EVERYTHING. Maybe not a problem for normal people, but I'm apparently not that normal. See Reason #8:

8. Pocket-less Maternity Clothes - Look, I don't know who is designing these things, but they need to be shot. I've decided they're either designed by men (who have obviously never needed them or given a second thought to their ultimate FUNCTIONALITY) who think all pregnant women want to show off their extra cleavage, I dunno, maybe to distract all men from getting any farther than their chest so they don't notice the lack of a waist? OR, by women who are flat chested and will always be flat chested even when they're not QUITE flat chested when they're pregnant. There are actually some of us who are NOT flat chested and never, ever will be and so, being just fine with that fact but not having the need to flaunt it, I do not need to proclaim it to the world with low cut maternity tops. Please. make something that is long enough to cover the chest AND the belly but isn't a size 2X. Please. I don't need WIDER tops. I don't want a TENT. Sheesh. And what IS IT with the lack of pockets? And to those manufacturers who insist upon making FAKE pockets, that is a particularly sick joke, my friend. Especially to those of us who might, say, wear a fake ring to hide the fact they can't stuff their fat finger into their real ring and then get frustrated with the thing catching on everything so turn it AROUND...and then go to shove something into their FAKE pocket and end up shoving their money down the inside of their waistband while trying to find the REAL pocket and just end up with a long, red, nasty scratch down the side of their poor belly. And spare change skittering across the floor after exiting the bottom of the shorts. In the middle of a store.

7. The Return of Morning Sickness - There's just no way to describe how fun it is to keep waking up to pee in the middle of the night and inevitably stumble back to bed feeling the need to lean over the side of the bed in case you actually do puke,

6. Constant Nasal Congestion - This is one of my very first signs of pregnancy, and it sticks around the whole way through. I'm constantly sniffling. And my husband has learned there is more than one reason for him to turn on a fan at night. Not only does it keep me from overheating (unless it's 90+ degrees outside in which case NOTHING prevents overheating), it also drowns the sound of my BREATHING just a teeny bit. But not all the way. And then there's the occasional snoring to contend with. Not that I snore. Really. Yeah, so now and then when the congestion and exhaustion are running really high and in cahoots with each other, then my husband will make a comment something like this: "Wow, I can tell you're really tired today because your lip is REALLY drooping!!" ... It usually happens when I'm trying NOT to breathe through my nose because I'm really stuffy and so I am breathing through my mouth, while attempting to do it lady-like in some way, shape, or form which means I'm holding my mouth mostly closed and only just open enough to get in enough air to not pass out, and by the end of the day I can actually FEEL the bottom lip starting to... droop. And the second my husband points it out I make it all SO much better by bursting into tears and having a good cry. Followed by more intense congestion and a splitting headache.

5. The Sneeze Factor - Uh, oops. How'd this one get in here? This is definitely a TMI one. If you've ever been pregnant, you know I don't need to elaborate here.

4. The Hip Waddle - OUCH! - It's the catch-22 of symptoms. In some ways you're glad your hips and all the pelvic joints that aren't really "joints" can just loosen up like that so long before labor begins so you can push out that 9 lb. baby without breaking, but really, who wants their pelvic joints to be so loose they feel like they're coming apart for 10 weeks?!

3. Just Call Me "Clumsy Butterfingers" - Here's what you do when you drop something (or your other children do) on the floor. First hike up the maternity pants that will fall down if you don't, spread your knees to make room for the belly, take in a deep breath and hold it 'cause you won't be able to breathe again until in the fully upright position, and reach down to grab it, exhaling sharply 'cause you thought you did, but you really don't, have enough room for the air AND the baby AND all your organs in there while scrunched over in that position. But here's the catch: I think it must be Murphy's Law or something. Or maybe we should call it Murphy's PREGNANT LAW: Once the object is retrieved from the depths of the floor, it will INEVITABLY be dropped again. Possibly 3 or 4 times before you finally manage to get a tight grip on it. Invest in one of those long-handled grabber thingies you see on infomercials. Or just do what I do and wait until you can hardly see the floor and then go around on hands and knees with a basket. Or wait till your husband steps on a lego. That works, too.

2. Hello, Psycho! - There are NO mood swings like Pregnant Mood Swings. Although.... I might recant that when I'm somewhere around the age of 50. We'll see.

And - drumroll please - The NUMBER ONE reason to enjoy the third trimester:

1. The Nose Spread - The Nose Spread? You ask. Yes. The Nose Spread. When I wake up one morning and look in the mirror to find that my nose has doubled in width and is spreading across my face. Oh yes, I assure you, it does happen! And it happens to go very nicely with the sausage toes and the lip droop mentioned earlier. I used to think it was all in my head, that surely my nose couldn't really be doing such things to me, that it was an optical illusion and once again my mirror was to blame (mirrors are to blame for a LOT of things, you see) but then I saw this one picture of Tiffany-Amber Theissen and I KNOW her nose didn't use to be that... big. I just really love it when celebrities are so... REAL... when they're pregnant. 'Cause really, not all of us can be Nicole Kidman.