If I May Rant For Just a Moment

To anyone with questions to the following answers:

No, it's not my first baby--it's my fourth.
Yes, I know what causes this.
Yes, I have my hands full and they keep me very busy.

Actually, I don't mind it. You see, I wanted each of these children. I planned for them. I know the chaos that comes with a house full of creative, busy, messy kids. Yes, some days I want to pull my hair out. But mostly, I love it. LOVE IT. Because, while you might think I'm crazy or irresponsible for having 'so many' kids, I actually think it's a blessing. You can tell me all kinds of horror stories about these two kids you know that {gasp} fight or this toddler that {gasp} bit her sibling, but I will regale you with tales of laughter-filled Rumble Royale (wrestling) or sisters reading to little brothers, sibling slumber parties, all kinds of pretend play, or, basically a group of little, life-long best friends who have got each others' back.

So, while clearly you cannot imagine that we had this many kids on purpose, we did. Because while you think that it is way too many, I will tell you that it's not too many when you need a friend, when you need someone to play a game with, or listen to you or cry with you. It's not too many when you are at the dinner table, or Christmas morning, or sitting around a campfire telling stories. It's not too many when you need people around to love and to love you. There's nothing more wonderful and important.

For us, it's not too many.

All of my kids were meant to be in this wonderful thing we call our family.

{Thunk, thunk} (me getting down from my soap box)

Bits of Nothing

I haven't posted in almost three weeks. That's like a decade in blogging years. Tonight's post is purely an exercise in posting, just so I don't forget how, and fall permanently off the face of the blogging planet.

There is a really irritating kid I know. I see him frequently, and every time I do, he points to me and yells "She is FAAAAAT!!!!!" What I really want to do is flick him. What I actually do is smile pseudo-patiently, like it's cute. It's not.

We put Little Buddy into a big boy bed about a week ago. It went okay until last night about 4:00 a.m., when I felt prompted to check on him and found him asleep at the top edge of the stairs. Phwew. Tonight he's in the pack and play.

Girlie is back in school after spring break. I'm just a sappy boob, and I've cried both mornings that I've dropped her off at school. Will I never learn?

I've been slowly gathering cute clothes that I find for my baby girl. When I need a mental break, I sit down with the basket of them and arrange them into stylish little outfits, complete with accessories. I would show them to J, but then he would ask his usual "How much did that set me back?" and I'm not prepared to answer that.

With Sammy's asthma now officially diagnosed and treated, we thought we were done with midnight runs to the ER. Last night proved us wrong. He, however, saw the sunny side of things and wore his hospital bracelet like bling all day.

I'm tired of lumbering and heaving and waddling. I'd like to get back to flitting, and sprinting, and prancing. Okay, not that I ever pranced, but I'd like to at least have that option.

In completely unrelated news, I discovered these very naughty ice cream bars dipped in chocolate and rolled in toasted almonds at Costco, thanks to Laura F. Wow, can I just say, wow.

I forgot to dye Easter eggs this year. Shocking but true. I have no valid excuse, except that I'm a pregnant lady with a million things on her precariously balanced plate. Something had to give. To those of you posting about your darling dyed eggs--kudos.

We stopped at the Tulip Festival in Skagit County this weekend, on our way up to Vancouver, BC. My most anticipated event was a little deflated, though, because the two older kids fell asleep on the way up, so I just grabbed Little Buddy to snap some pics. That's him at the top. His hair has since been cut.

We continued up to the Vancouver, BC Temple Open House. It was one of the most gorgeous buildings I've ever seen, and the most fantastic feeling to be there with our whole family. We LOVED it!! (This is not actually considered one of the 'Bits of Nothing', but it is all I'm going to write about it here.)

Ciao.

I've got good news and bad news

It's really cute. Every day I pick Girlie up from school and she says, "Do you want to hear the exciting news or the bad news first?" I always ask for the good news. She tells me, then she'll say, "There's actually no bad news."

My parents came to visit us for a week--the first time since we've moved here (thanks to the 50 or so family weddings that happened in our first 1 1/2 years here). We lived in Vancouver, British Columbia for three years when I was young, so we all headed three hours north to our old stomping grounds.

Good news: We got to visit my old first grade school.

Bad news: While we were there, Little Buddy smacked his forehead on some bricks, and the gash required stitches. We spent the afternoon in the ER. Facial lacerations on my kids and foreign medicine=two of my biggest fears.

Bad news: Clearly, this trip was not turning out as I planned. I don't look amused, going on three hours in the waiting room.

Good news: At least I got pictures.

Bad news: Our medical detour cost almost $900.

Good news: This happened before the healthcare overhaul, and our insurance covered it all.

Good news: We got to see alot. Along with Gastown (my kids snickered at that name) and Chinatown, we saw

Granville Island

My wonderful parents

Good news: Since we had others with us, we actually got pictures of our whole family!

Totem poles at Stanley Park

And another one.

With my dad (looking at Olympics stuff across the harbor) my brother.

Visited a salmon hatchery

Queen Elizabeth Park. Beautiful gardens, fountains.

Stopped to visit Deception Pass (Washington) on our way back to Seattle.

Bad news: As soon as we got back, we realized Sammy had a fever.

More bad news: It hit 104 and lasted a week. And ended up being tonsilitis and an ear infection. And we didn't get to do any Seattle fun with my family because I had to nurse "Sickie and Stitch", as J nicknamed them.

Good news: We still had lots of fun in the evenings and at least we got to see them.

More good news: It's been long enough now that it's not quite so painful to talk about.

Belly

Today I very optimistically bought a bunch of seeds. Optimistic on two levels: 1--I expect amazing produce to spring from these seeds, and 2--I expect that when our late May/June planting season arrives that I will not be too huge and exhausted to get down in the dirt and plant some. And then weed. And water. And harvest.

The guy at the cash register smiled and said, "You're baby's comin' soon, huh?"
I smiled and shrugged, "...kind of."
"April?" he guessed.
"June, actually."
"Whoa!! Big baby."

Okay, seriously.

I shrugged again and smiled congenially. "I don't know what to say to that."
"No, I mean...healthy. Yeah, healthy. That's good!"

I don't know if it is 'good' that people think I'm due next month. In any case, there's nothing I can do about it. At my doctor's appointment a month ago, I was told to 'keep an eye on' my weight, since it was about a 10 lb gain. I can tell you where that 10 lbs went--straight to my tush. I get booty when I'm pregnant, and still can't figure out how to deal with it, short of duct taping myself together back there. I've come very close.

This is the thing, though. I don't really mind now. You see, this is my (presumably) last child. This will be the last time in my life that I can eat what I want and not give it another thought. I'm going to be watching my food intake for the rest of my life. So, forgive me, I'm going to enjoy every minute. This whole eating business is one of the best parts of pregnancy. A couple days ago I took Sammy our for a frosty as a reward for something. As we sat in Wendy's, I realized that I needed fast food. Now. Needed it. And not some salad or grilled chicken sandwich, or anything else that I could pretend was quasi-healthy. Like, give me a double cheeseburger and fries. Arby's curly fries, to be exact. It took every ounce of my will power (and the thought that the next day would be 'weigh-in'--a.k.a. doctor's visit) to walk out empty handed and drive straight home.

At my appointment I tried to beat the nurse to the scale, so I could position myself in optimal weigh-in stance--leaning back just a little on my heels to make myself 1/2 a pound lighter, like I practiced on my scale at home. Unfortunately for me, the doctor's scale was just a little smarter than my home version. Fortunately, though, I gained only two pounds last month, despite the fact that the only difference in my eating was that I ran out of Tillamook Udderly Chocolate ice cream. I rewarded myself by visiting the Arby's drive-thru on the way home.

I've decided my body lies in the hands of fate. While pregnant, it will just do what it wants to, leaving me to worry about things that I can control. Like these (imagine me circling my unruly, neglected eyebrows).

Otherwise, I feel fantastic. As in, 2-hour-hikes fantastic. I'm enjoying this Just-a-Little-Tired stage between Sick and Huge. And so, since I'm in the market, any guilty pleasure foods you recommend? I've got three months.

A Rose By Any Other Name

We've come to that stage again. Where, now knowing the gender, discussion turns to the naming of our offspring. Or rather, I come up with a plethora of delighful and charming names and J shoots them down.

"Yeah, maybe if she were 80."
"Yeah, maybe if she were a hooker."
"Okay, that one is just weird--where did you even come up with that?"

And so on. I'm not going to tell you any of the names that preceeded these responses--surely I'd offend someone. I will just say I didn't suggest any names of friends of mine, so it's not your name. Unless you read this blog and I don't know you and you have an unusual name, then it might be. I don't want an overused name, he doesn't want it too weird. It would be nice to have some significance for us, but he's dismissed all the ones I read off of the pedigree chart. It can't be too 'old' or too 'ethnic'. Not too popular, too Biblical, and not the same name as any ex-girlfriend, unkind roommate, or unruly child that we know of.

It's hard to ask parent's opinions, too. Two of them are teachers, and have undoubtedly encountered children of any name we could think of. I'm not sure my own mother is sold on my third child's name. She was still making suggestions after we left the hospital with that one.

It's just...the pressure of naming a child. The honor. The responsibility. Assuming the child doesn't grow up and then request to be called Delia (I knew someone like this) or legally change their name to Princess Consuela Banana Hammock (did you see that Friends episode?), this is the name that they'll bear, and hopefully live up to, for the rest of their lives!

We've come to a short list of names that are "on the table." There is a proverbial table, and we place names on it, until someone flicks, throws, or otherwise removes it from contention. The list is as follows, in no particular order of preference:

Claire
Avery
Emma
Hallie

Okay, there it is, people. Now tell me, what do you think? Any one in particular, or have you got one yourself that you'd love to throw into the running?

Cutting Edge

J got a new phone and gave me his old one. It's a nice, blue Treo. The problem is that I can't use it. Or, maybe I should say, I don't want to learn how to use it. This is part of my whole "simplify" view of life. Just give me a phone with numbers and a pound key. That's all I ask for. I don't need one with a big screen and a multitude of functions. He tries to teach me how this can actually simplify my life--all my information, email, data, internet, schedule, calendar all at my fingertips.

Yeah, I understand the individual words...

Part of me resents the fact that I have to be 'taught' how to use a phone. I just want it to store numbers of people I love, and dial them when I tell it to. That's all. For the rest of all that 'stuff', give me my tangible, paper Franklin Covey any day. I can see my week at a glance and that's all I really ask. There's something easier about scribbling down things that my kids say onto paper instead of using the little poker-thing and leprechaun-sized keys that the phone requires.

It drives him crazy. He's a techy type. Works for Microsoft. Meticulous and methodical. Gets tickled pink by new technology. And I do mean tickled pink. Me, I'm an old fashioned kind of girl. A free spirited, 'feely' kind of person. Steeped in tradition, doesn't like the impersonality of electronics, and loves the smell of organization that comes from a paper planner, even if I frequently lose it. J and I are an interesting combination.

Someday we'll come to some sort of an understanding. Right now, I'll just focus on retrieving voicemail.

Now, if it did vacuuming...that'd be another story...

First Family Vacation

Our first not-to-visit-family family vacation was spent at Great Wolf Lodge. Three days of all you can handle waterpark-ing, kids crafts, and pajama storytime.

J and I took turns going on the waterslides with the kids. Surprisingly, Girlie was the daredevil and loved the wave pool and fast slides, while Wild Man preferred swimming life jacketless in the kiddie pool.

My two little water monkeys. Quick, pictureless story: we practiced swimming with them at the YMCA a couple weeks before our trip. As I demonstrated back floating and my belly emerged from the water, J pointed out, "Hey, mommy looks like a hump back whale." All I could think as I went down the slides were echoes of "hump back whale...hump back whale..." (Sorry, honey--if you don't want me to share that, you shouldn't say things like that).

The kids thought the nightly slumber parties were terrific.

On our way home, we stopped in Olympia, WA. If you squint, you can see us standing outside the capitol building. What family vacation would be complete without a little lesson in government for the tots, right?

J decided it would somehow be appropriate to have a family council in Govenor Gregoire's conference room.

It was a fun, not-at-all relaxing vacation. We had a great time, and luckily, still have the rest of the week off thanks to our weird "mid-winter break" here in the Northwest.

Before and After

Before: 11:50 a.m. I have my ultrasound at 1:20 today. And, while I will continue to wait with bated breath, I still suspect it's a boy. My 'suspicions' were right with the other three, and while I am willing this to be another pink-loving princess, I may in fact be the 'boy mom'. Girlie's cheering for a little sis; Sammy is pulling hard for another member of 'the boys team.' Like we have anything to do with it.

I found out this morning that my sis-in-law--lucky duck-- is expecting a little girl (due the same time--well, 'due' the same time, but she'll undoubtedly 'beat' me like she did with our last babies). I'm not sure I can be truly happy for her unless I find out I'm having one too. It very well might be just jealousy.

As I know that my kids may very well stumble across these words in later years, let me just clarify: Child o' mine, I will love you with all my heart and then some, no matter if you're a boy or girl. I will love and delight in your every facial expression, every milestone reached, and every moment I get to hold you in my arms. It's just that, if you would also let me dress you up and take you shopping, and plan your wedding, I'd really appreciate it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to start chugging the 32 oz of water that's going to make my bladder feel like exploding so that you'll be a little more photogenic.

After: 3:31 p.m. Being wrong has never made me so happy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! It's a girl, and I am one big permagrin! Yay!! I did a few jumps for joy in the hallway outside the ultrasound room. A few fist pumps, a click of my heels, and a few random nurses got to hear my good news. Yay!!

I helped at Girlie's class Valentine's day party after the ultrasound, and told her the good news. She got a huge grin when I whispered "You're going to have a little sister" and declared it "the best day of [her] life."

I've already got some fabric from Keepsake Cottage that is going to make the most darling quilt, and if Little Buddy weren't napping in his crib, I'd be setting it up in Girlie's room and hanging some mosquito netting from the ceiling.

Ah, another girl...{contented sigh}

Oh, For Crying Out Loud

I know I'm a crier. I am, and I make no apologies. Maybe if there were more overly tender, crying people the world wouldn't be such a nutty place. But, during pregnancy, my crying kicks it up to a whole new level. The other day, I heard a song of the radio that reminded me of something (I am still not sure what it reminded me of, I just know that it must have been something) and I got all teary.

Have you seen that silly commercial about the little girl who loses her dog and is putting up signs, and this guy sees her and takes a picture with his phone and texts it to everyone he knows and the girl gets her dog back? Okay, first, I don't even know how to text. It ages me, I know, but seriously, how does anyone get the right letters to come up? So, this commercial is about technology that is embarrassingly out of my grasp, but it still makes me stifle a sob. When the girl sees her puppy again, and everyone is happy because, thank the technology gods, they could send this picture around and text...it brings me to tears.

And, the other day, I was at Girlie's school. I was in the office, and I thought I would let the secretary know how much we adore our teachers (I'm not kissing up, I just believe in praising honestly when it's deserved), and as the sentence is midway through my mouth, I have to start smiling and blinking back the tears that have welled up, and quickly excuse myself with some rambling "get Little Buddy home for a nap" mumble. Because, sniff, these teachers are, sniff, just so...wonderful. {sniff}

And maybe if I were a 'pretty' crier, it would be a different story than the blotchy red face and mascara smudgies that I come up with. However, until I can get that wiring fixed (which is last on the list of imaginary procedures that I swear to have done when I'm finished bearing children), I will cry (somewhat unattractively) over the happy, the sad, and for no good reason at all.

Wuv, Twue wuv

We all know that love and relationships are complicated. That's the nature of the beast. We're reminded of that more so on Valentine's Day than any other day of the year. What you may not be aware of, is that these complications begin early. In elementary school.

You may remember Sawyer. He was the mowhawked kindergarten friend that 'loved' Girlie. Because she was 'cute.' And he wanted to marry her.

Now we're in first grade, and thankfully his flames of passion have died down. What we didn't realize, until recently, though, is that the whole first grade love scene has gotten more complicated. As it turns out, my daughter has been 'in marriage'. Twice. Once to Blake and once to Nolan.

'In marriage' happens when you hang around someone, like at recess. You get in marriage then. You can also find yourself in marriage if you notice that a boy is hanging around you. Being in marriage lasts for about 10 miles (I asked). If a boy starts teasing you, then you can go ahead and not be in marriage anymore.

Being in marriage appears to be on the same level as having a crush on someone. But, you have to be careful with crushes. Because Amy had a crush on Zak, and she told Angela, her second-grade cousin. Well, that was a mistake, because Patrick heard about it. Patrick is the mean second grader, and he's just going to tell everyone. And that will be so embarrassing.

And what is really bad now is that Zak doesn't love Amy. He loves Madeline. So Amy and Angela are really mad now, and have decided to ditch Madeline. I asked what 'ditch' meant--she said that it was like a hole.

We told Girlie she didn't need to worry about any of that stuff for many, many years.

So, see? As complicated as love may be, count your lucky stars that at least you're not in first grade. Happy Valentine's Day.