It's Good to Be Back

I took a rather long break from blogging. Most friends figured out why when they read my last post. It was because the only things that were really on my mind were things like my complete and utter nausea, how everything smells bad to me, and how I'm pretty sure I'm already getting fat. Now that the proverbial beans are spilled, there's a sort of freedom to share my thoughts again. In case anyone cared about my thoughts.

Thanks for all the well wishes. I appreciate them, truly. It's fun news to share, especially when you think your husband might still be in denial. :) Bless his sweet heart. He's actually been a gem-- home since Tuesday and cleaning like a pro.

I feel horrible. The kind of daily, overwhelming nausea that makes you wish you could throw up, because in a twisted sort of way, you think it might make you feel better. And, truth be told, the only reason I'm blogging right now is because I'm waiting for it to be a respectable time so I can go to sleep. There's something...wrong about going to bed before, say, 8:30 p.m. Or maybe I'm just scared of waking for the day at 4:00 a.m. Speaking of that, I've been waking up early. Way. Too. Early. Thank you, my kumquat-sized baby. Like, 5 a.m. Yes, I know many of you do that on a regular basis to punish yourselves with running or working out. That's not my problem.

Grocery stores are gross places for me right now. Do you even KNOW all the bad smells that live in grocery stores? The ice beds of fresh Seattle seafood, the dairy case, the butcher block--I have to twist my face up so my nose is completely cut off. Otherwise, since I don't actually throw up, I would totally be dry heaving right there in the aisle. My shopping trips have become weird little expeditions where I run in with a general idea of what I need. Then I almost-literally run through the aisles, just hucking food into my cart. I get way more than what moderation would politely suggest (17 boxes of jello? Seriously?) in the hopes that it will be a very long time before I come back again. I come out with a lot of weird food (because I needed those Sour Patch Kids) and a very long receipt.

Anyway. My apologies to anyone that may have been a victim of my pregnancy weirdness these last 10 weeks. Just in case I looked like I was going to vomit at something you said or I accidentally rammed you with my shopping cart.

I'm going to bed now.

I "Passed" the Test

October 19, 2009

J questioned my sanity during a, uh, little bit of a rant the other day. Then he asked when my period was, which made me blow up even more. But a couple days later, I started to wonder the same thing. I went to the calendar, and I was due, any minute. But I didn't feel it. In fact, I started to suspect something else. The next day I went to Target after 1st grade pick up. I grabbed a pregnancy test, and then some Halloween candy to cover it up. The cashier lady stared hard at my purchase. I couldn't blame her--Little Buddy was rocking back and forth in his seat, yelling and trying to free himself from the seatbelt, Sammy was hanging off the side of the cart, whimpering because he didn't get to ride in the basket, and Girlie was in the basket due to a spill at school that left her in borrowed, oversized black sweatpants. I bet she was looking at me and my pregnancy test and thinking, "Seriously?"

I'll take it in a couple days. I'll just wait a little while. I have this, just in case, I thought to myself before pulling up to the house and sprinting to the bathroom. A bright blue plus sign smiled up at me, and I warily smiled down at it. Oh boy. Here was the test. And I 'passed.'

How to tell J? I wasn't sure. Maybe I'd wait for a while, then throw out "Hey, this isn't the ice cream's fault. I'm three months pregnant." Or, so many times I'd casually thrown out "I'm pregnant" just to freak him out. I thought it would be really funny to tell him the news just like that. Right before he fell asleep. Then I thought that it might hurt the baby's feelings that I didn't do something creative, so I pulled the half-asleep kids out of bed and had them do a little video clip. When J came home that night after helping with the youth at church, we crawled into bed.

"Oh, you've got to see this funny footage of Little Buddy at dinner," I said. I held the video camera so we could both see. There was Buddy, laughing hysterically at the peas on his fork. Then came this clip.

J got his "freaked out" face on. That's the one where he gets really quiet and flushed, and his eyes kind of bug out. I think he may have even stopped breathing at some point.

"Are you serious? "he stared at me. I smiled and waggled my eyebrows at him.
"Tell me, are you pregnant?" he demanded.
I could tell that my coy games and smiles were not being fully appreciated.

Yes, I told him.
"Say 'I promise,'" he demanded. 'I promise' is the ultimate test of truth in our household.
"I promise," said I.
He took a moment to process, then asked me how I felt about it.
I grinned. "I'm happy! How do you feel?"
He gulped just a little. "I'm not sure."

So, yes. It's true. I, at least, am tickled pink to add another one to our wild bunch, and I'm feeling as well as can be expected, which is not good at all. We were going to wait to tell people (after all, last time we waited for 16 weeks), but the kids figured it out. And despite the whole "this is our family's secret for right now" speech, Sammy walked out the door, saw our neighbor and said, "Our mom is pregnant. Did you know that?" We figured we should be the ones to spill the beans.

Candy Overload 2009

We rocked the neighborhood in superhero style this Halloween. Super Girl, Batman, and baby Superman all raked in a pretty good chocolate haul, due to a large neighborhood and few kids. Basic 'supply and demand', people. "Take more, take more" said everyone and their dog. Music to a dental-bill-paying mother's ears. We carefully avoided the slugs that cover Northwest sidewalks, and kept passing other families that kept saying "Hello, Super Family!" Sammy's pumpkin treat bag laughed a menacing "Mwuh-ha-ha-ha" when he pushed the button...every time someone opened their door. Then, when they complimented the costumes, Sammy would offer up "These are actually my pajamas"; I cringed and smiled every time. It's true. Because, why would I waste money on an expensive Batman costume if we had perfectly good Batman pajamas? Seriously. But I digress. If there was just a candy bowl on the porch, the kids would yell out, "Happy Halloween, whoever you are!!!" J kept taking "Candy Taxes", presumably for his chaperoning efforts that night.

Monday night was spent elbow-deep in pumpkin guts. Girlie dove right in, while Wild Man repeatedly asked, "How about we get some gloves to do this?"

Once he finally dove in, he thought it necessary to come terrorize me.

We meant to have the 'happy' one using himself to roast a marshmallow, but never got around to it.

This was Salon a la Mommy. Girlie was not too pleased about the poofy super hero hair I was creating for her.

She changed her tune when she realized the volume of sugar we were talking about.

Wild Man Sam's first candy choice were some disturbingly real-looking and gross gummy teeth and fangs (or, 'thangs' as he calls them). Of course, and why not?

All in all, an excellent Halloween. Hope yours was spooktacular too!

Us in a Nutshell

We've had a week. Let me rephrase: we've had a week of swine flu, bronchitis and pneumonia. Today my kids were chanting "H1N1, otherwise know as swiiiiiiine flu, H1N1 otherwise known as swiiiiiine flu!" Poor Girlie got taken down by the bug. It actually wasn't as bad as regular flu, but she's had to stay home. We've all been climbing the walls. Haven't gone anywhere--except for KFC drive thru, when they had free chicken Monday night. Doc gave us the all clear today, though. She'll head back to the wild world of 1st grade on Friday, just in time for her Halloween party. In the words of Nurse Deb, "Take your time. This place is toxic. People are sliming all over each other here." The thing is, J is taking off for a week in the UK. I asked him, Wasn't it this time last year that the kids all got sick and you took off for a week in Hong Kong? We've GOT to kick this tradition!


My birthday was yesterday. J took the kids to the Dollar Store to pick out gifts. My birthday loot included a Dora jump rope, a photo mouse pad, and a pink calculator. And the cutest coat in the world that I picked out on a date a couple weeks ago (the date happened to include a stop at Nordstrom Rack) and thought that it was something that J would love to give me for my birthday. He also surprised me with an ice cream cake, and "made" dinner that looked and tasted just like the Fiesta Lime Chicken from Applebees. It was a lovely evening, spent in my favorite place with my favorite people in the world. J had a mission buddy that once told us he was marrying a "smokin' hot 21 year old." That made us laugh, and all the time I ask J if I'm still his smokin' hot (now) 32 year old. He says yes, always, but I think it's going to be really funny when I'm his smokin' hot 75 year old.


We're gearing up for Superhero Halloween 2009. I'll take Super Girl, Batman, and Baby Superman trick-or-treating to the 12 houses in our neighborhood. I'm trying to decide if I make them wear coats, or layer sweats underneath their costumes. A tiny part of me says I shouldn't take them out in the cold at all, but a bigger part scoffs I laugh in the face of swine flu.

A Closet Full of Nothing to Wear

I got three shirts at Target last week. Only three, and at Target, of all places. A wild hair detour somewhere in between diapers and antibacterial wipes. Yet, I felt like a million bucks when I got the first compliment on the olive green, cable knit sweater.

Why is that? I wondered. My closet is busting at the seams. I stared at all the pretty fabrics, textures, all the varying lengths of sleeves and pants. Why is it that I feel I've got nothing to wear? Am I really reduced to being thrilled at a cream-colored cardigan on sale at Target? Then I figured it out.

I took a closer look at my clothes. It didn't take long to figure that I could categorize my clothes by size. Ever since the body-rollercoaster of kids "happened" to me, I have fluctuated a total of FIVE sizes in the last seven years of child bearing. This is how it breaks down.

I have the PRE-BABY SIZES. Mostly work clothes. Wardrobe classics. Trim dress pants, darling skirts. Things that I would use to dress for success. I coordinated lighting schemes, picked out the perfect rug, and explained the benefits of leather furniture in these clothes. They didn't get worn out, because there was no one spitting up or exploding their diaper on them. I wasn't crawling on the floor, and having sippy cups spilled on them. So I hung onto them. And I swore that someday, SOMEDAY I would fit them once again.

I have my POST BABY FAT CLOTHES. These are the ones tearfully purchased when I admitted defeat. When I sorrowfully conceeded, that I could no longer zip myself into the black pencil skirt with the beading at the bottom. When the extra 55 lbs (that's right, fifty-five) I gained with Baby #1 didn't all melt away, as I planned. This is the stash that I turn to when I realize that my baby is 2 months old and it's time to stop wearing my maternity jeans. A goodly number of these were purchased with a skinny friend, who, sensing my distress, comforted me (very sincerely) with the admission that she had some fat clothes that were (gasp) size 8. I no longer shop with her. But, I can't throw these away, because if I have another baby (if...), I'm going to need those fat clothes.

Then comes all the stuff in the middle. I have Skinny Day clothes, and Fat Day clothes. There are my very comfortable-but-unstylish Mom Day clothes and the Going Out with Girlfriends ones. There are the ones that are a little more forgiving--the type that are kinder to the parts of your body that won't (after 3 kids) ever be the same without the help of a good surgeon. Shirts that are huge now, but you know as soon as your milk comes in can barely contain busty you.

It comes down to this: Only a small percentage of my wardrobe is flattering at any given time. This revolving body of mine is the reason. The reason I have a closet full of nothing to wear. And the reason I rejoice in the three new shirts that fit me.

Milk and More

Sammy: Is milk made from water and white?

Me: No, where does milk come from?

Girlie: Milk comes from cows.

Sammy: So, cows drink milk?

Me: No, cows produce milk.

Girlie: Like mommies make milk too.

Me: That's right. Mommy cows make milk.

Girlie concludes: So mommies are cows.

________________________________________

Girlie: Oh, my ear hurts.

Sammy: Why?

Girlie: I don't know. I hope I don't have a middle ear infection. (She had one in Jan.)

Sammy: WHAT? A METAL ear infection??

Girlie: NO, a miT-Tle ear infection.

Sammy: Oh, that is not awesome.

________________________________________

Sammy: Mommy, everyone starts on earth as a baby, right?

Me: Yep, everyone starts as a baby.


(Pause)

Sammy: Except grandmas. Grandmas and mommies and daddies. Because someone has to feed the babies.

Going Batty

In the spirit of the spooky season, we made some bat hair clips! Who doesn't need flying rodents (I know, I know, they're actually mammals--it's just that "flying mammals" doesn't sound spooky enough) tangled up in their tresses? If you want some, too, there are two ways to get them.

#1-Make them

If you can't tell, this is sparkly black felt. Fold it in half and cut a bat shape, like so.

I used pinking shears to cut the bottom of the wings.

Cut a body out of regular black felt.

Stitch them together with white embroidery floss.

You can add eyes if you want. After all, no two bats are alike.

I covered the clip (I bought a whole box at a beauty supply store for just a few dollars) with ribbon, using hot glue.

Then I used hot glue to attach the bat to the clip.

And, #2 (perhaps even easier than #1)--Leave a comment and I'll pick some lucky people to receive their own batty clip! Just like you always wanted.

As you can see, I made more than we could ever use.

Halloweening at My Place

Okay, is this not the cutest "pumpkin tree" you've ever seen? I don't know what it really is--I'm guessing some variety of tomato, but isn't it darling? I found it with the cut flowers in my local grocery store.

Here's a Halloween countdown calendar that I made with my friend, Chelsea. It was inexpensive and fun, but extremely time consuming. It's a great project that you could start for next year! To start you out, I included a couple shots of some of my sketches for the pocket designs below. You could also use the designs to do a billion other crafty things. If you can't get the pictures big enough to be useful, let me know and I'll email you a scanned copy of them along with some detailed directions. A supply list is below.

We use the calendar, and each day I put a slip of paper in the appropriate pocket of a place to look for that day's Halloween activity or treat. The kids love it. You could also use the designs to make a single pocket or Halloween scene where you hide something every day.

Supplies you'll need to make a calendar:

Black canvas, 30"x37"

Felt--orange, white, black, green, purple, yellow, brown, sparkly black, tan.

White and black stiff felt with adhesive on the back (got mine at Michaels), 1 sheet each

Eyes--very small ones, 2 very big ones

Metallic stars

Orange ric rac, 11 feet

Black bias tape and white ribbon for hanging loops

4 medium purple buttons

1 big black button for spider body

Color coordinating thread and embroidery floss

Pinking shears

Who doesn't love spiders in their cupcakes?

We had some fun making spiderweb cupcakes this week. I tried to ignore the nagging feeling that perhaps I should lay off the baked goods, but it started raining here in Seattle. And there's nothing quite like chocolate cupcakes to make the rain feel cozy. We started by frosting them orange (you can use my favorite Cream Cheese Frosting recipe at the bottom of my cinnamon roll post).

Then we used black decorator gel to draw concentric circles, like so.

Then we used toothpicks to drag "spiderwebs" from the center dot to the outside edge.

And we finished with assorted-color arachnid rings. Yummy!

The apple, the tree, something about falling...

Do you know what I find really funny? The way that parents influence their young children. Not so much morally, socially, or educationally, but more, in a sense,...professionally. For instance, we have a friend who is an osteopathic surgeon. As we were hanging out, their 3 year old was hovering around the adult conversation. "Go play," they urged, "go get your human body puzzle." Another friend is an accountant. Their preschooler sets up play offices and computers for fun.

That's the same reason that my kids know words like 'armoire' and 'ottoman' and 'taupe' and 'window treatment.' Also the same reason that they don't blink when J asks them to please "Confirm that you've gone potty before we go." They also request 'progress payments' from him instead of 'treats'. And the reason I heard this conversation. The kids had set up a "book fair" in our living room.

Kids: Hi! We're having a book fair. Do you want to buy something?

J: You're having a book fair, huh? Okay, I'll buy a book. How much does this one cost?

Girlie: Nothing. You can have it for free.

Sammy (at the same time): Forty-five dollars.

J: What? How can you make any money if you are selling your books for free?

Kids: I don't know. Do you want a book?

J: I'm having a difficult time understanding your cost structure.

Kids: (silence)

J: Is this a Ponzi scheme?

Kids: A what? What is that?

J: I just don't understand how your business can be profitable if you are giving away your services and merchandise for free. Are you subsidized by the government?

Kids: Um, yes. We just have book fairs and you can have stuff for free.

J: So let me get this straight. You are subsidized by the government, so you have free book fairs--and you just sustain a loss with every transaction?

Kids (after I whispered in their ears): We're Socialists.

I'm just sayin', this isn't something you consider when you're picking your major.

PS: In case you're wondering what my husband does for a living, I'm not entirely sure. Sure, he has "Finance Manager" on his emails from Microsoft, but I'm not clear on what that actually means, except that he deals with very large budgets and can produce a pretty mean spreadsheet.