What a wonderful weekend!

Can I just say, Holy Moly what a weekend. We went home for a visit with family and friends, and man oh man did it feel so short. I've been counting down to this weekend for what feels like WEEKS, only for it to feel like it lasted a few short moments.
However, it was awesome. I got to see so much of my family, most of whom I haven't seen in bare minimum a year. And on top of that, I was blessed with a baby shower hosted by my extended church family.

My Little Man is so loved by so many people. My whole FAMILY is loved by so many people. I am filled to the brim with undying gratitude, and it feels great.

My Monsters actually did really well this weekend too. They managed to keep up with the fast paced "on the go"-ness that seemed to be the theme for the past two days. Monster 1 only had a couple relatively minor fits, while Monster 2 managed to stay at a low maintenance level of cranky after such long days. The drive home was spectacular because my Monsters slept. And slept. And slept. Only to get home, be transferred to their beds and continue to sleep. It. Was. Bliss.
Hubby and I spent the car ride home engaged in all sorts of conversations, which is my favorite part of road trips. I never cease to be amazed at how we can just talk for hours.
You know that phase that all new couples go through, where they talk all the time non-stop and never seem to run out of words to say, or things to learn about each other?
That is my husband and I on road trips.

Of course, my husband had two Monster energy drinks, so really it was either talk to him or listen to him bee-bop and sing obnoxiously to whatever was on the radio.
After two tiresome days, and only one hour into the trip, I decided on the lesser of two evils. Stay awake and talk. I'm pretty sure I might have been half asleep for, oh, say, Half the conversation? I jest, I kid. Kind of.

These conversations always seems to go one of two ways. (Ok, so ultimately they end the same way, and I'll explain) My husband starts off by ranting about something that genuinely irks him to no end, and I either
1) Agree with him, or
2) Start a debate I know I can win, and we have a verbal sparring match where I find a way to crush him down into agreeing with me.
Now option number 2 is always endlessly fun and entertaining, but there have been moments in the past where I've backed down if I realize I can't win. Because who likes to lose in an embarrassing way? I'd rather graciously bow out and concede to agreeing with him.
The topic of last nights conversation was mainly gender neutrality in society, and the sexist views that girls can "do anything" but boys can't. I would go into detail, but really, I'd love first to hear what other people think.
Readers, do you think it's wrong that girls are allowed to do "boy things" (such as like the color blue, play with cars, and take interest in what are predominately male hobbies) while the boys are taught they have to be tough, hate pink, and in general have a mild aversion to anything girly? I'm interested to hear some feedback!

Anyway, on that note, my girly girls are ready for me to prep them for bed time, after which I might just start another fiery debate with my husband!

I should start this off by saying I'm on my phone as I write this, because I can't bring myself to get out of bed just yet. Its 8:15 in the morning and while I recognize that this is a perfectly acceptable time to get up and start my day, I feel like crap. I'm tired, and a little cranky because my night was spent tossing and turning.
Plus I am hungry, and eating requires moving...

So. I had a doctors appointment yesterday, and I have decided that this pregnancy has flown by. My little nugget is no longer a nugget. He weigh approximately 3lbs 10oz! He's huge in there. Of course he's also measuring a week ahead of his due date, so my fears that hr will come early? Yeah, totally justified.
Naturally this led to all sorts of discussion about when hubby will be off work, how long, who to call for our "chain" reaction if I go into labor. Which means I'm thinking about the things we have to get, and wondering when I should "pack my bags" for the hospital. I'm actually not as concerned about all of this as I used to be. I just know o should probably talk to said chain of people so they are ready.

Sigh. I am officially thirty weeks with anywhere from 6-10 weeks left before this baby is here.
Yup panic has mildly set in.

I think I'm nesting...

So we have reached the point in this pregnancy where things start to hit home. Things like, holy crow, in 3 days I will be 30 weeks, and suddenly it will all feel down hill from there. I am frantically trying to get things done as if the baby will be here tomorrow, only to stop and realize the baby won't be here for weeks.
But.
Weeks, they fly by. Quickly. In one week I leave for my mom's to visit for a weekend. I feel like I just posted not to long ago about how I would be going in 3 or 4 weeks. GAH! My mom has been back from her trip to Romania for like, 4 days or something? Yeah, and the last time I posted on here, she was there.
So I've been nesting. My idea of nesting has been to clean one room like crazy, neglect the rest, and then get overwhelmed that the rest of the house looks ridiculous, only to try to pick it up and have my children destroy the one room I beasted. That's how things go in my house. I am frantic. I am slightly neurotic. Ok, I might just be full on neurotic. The crazy is setting in and suddenly I'm looking at my computer desk and all I can think is, "This has to be clean. Like. NOW." and I am tempted to stop typing just to do it. Unfortunately alongside all this crazy talk about cleaning and what not, comes the urge to do what I do best. My favorite pre-cleaning past time.
Google.
Yup, googling tips on cleaning has turned into googling ideas for the kiddos' rooms. I cleaned the girls room top to bottom yesterday, picked out some stuff for Goodwill, swept, vacuumed, moved some furniture, and now, all I want to do is run out and buy a bunk bed and some paint.
Oh and clean my computer desk. My husband is due home from work soon, and I have a feeling that when he gets here, he will find me in a full on cleaning panic.
I feel it rising up in me, friends. The urge that I couldn't control yesterday is taking over my whole being right this very second. As I type, my legs are twitching.

Oh my gersh! Did you know that sometimes babies come early? Yeah, like way early. Like, 3 weeks early. Dear me, what if I have this baby 3 weeks early? That means I could have 7 weeks left.

Panic has begun.

My daughters are best friends

Once upon a time when I thought about the age gap between my two oldest children being so small, it was terrifying. The thought of the double duty diapers, and the nap times and that my oldest was barely eating adult food as I started the nursing process all over again, was an absolutely horrific thought. It scared me and it took me a while to figure out how to juggle it. As the girls got bigger I realized that it was only going to continue as we dived into potty training, the decision for showers over baths, and the time consuming process of fixing two little girls hair every day. (Seriously, do you know how hard it is to do 4 french braids in under twenty minutes??) My girls are girly girls, which means every day getting ready to get out the door is a PROCESS. They have to pick out their own clothes, decide how to do their hair, fight over who gets which ponytails, and basically drive me insane. Bedtime is equally disastrous, because they each have their own opinions on which movie to watch at bedtime, how far open to leave the closet door, and whose ladybug pillow is whose. 

They are two high spirited and open minded little girls who are only 1.5 years apart. They can both think for themselves, and they both know what they like. This is sometimes a source of frustration. Playtime consists of a lot of fighting over who gets which Barbie doll, who gets which play castle, and which one gets to use the baby doll bed. It is enough to drive any mother (or human being for that matter) absolutely insane.

But. All of this doesn't even begin to measure up to the good that I witness with my daughters each and every day. Monster1 knows that her little sister can't quite reach the top shelf, and is more than happy to help her out. Monster2 knows that she will get to watch Dora if she lets her big sister watch one episode of My Little Pony first. They both love to snuggle on the couch together and watch these cartoons under a mountain of pillows and blankets and stuffed animals. They love to pretend together. Usually one of them is a puppy or a kitty, and follows the other on all fours around the house. They take turns being the Mommy and the baby. They run hand in hand through the house screaming at the top of their lungs about monsters. They love to take showers together and help each other wash their backs. 

My daughters are best friends. They protect each other fiercely, and the oldest is a formidable opponent if you are picking on her little sister. I want to capture all these moments and just hold onto them forever. It terrifies me to imagine them being 16 & 17 fighting over clothes! I know they are going to need each other a lot more in the next few months when their baby brother arrives. Because to be honest, I'm scared of how much work a newborn is going to be alongside my 3 and 4 year olds. I can say I never want these days to end. The days of them playing and laughing and giggling all through the night. Of them running outside holding each others hand. Of them wanting to wrestle together with their Daddy, and play hide and seek. Grinning at each other over a bowl of animal crackers, and delightfully sharing absentmindedly as they watch cartoons. Of pretending that our kitten is their baby, and our dog is their nanny. 

There is not enough minutes or hours in the day to capture all of the precious moments my daughters bring to my life. But I certainly can appreciate the peace and quiet as they play together in their room.

Had a doctors appointment

So yesterday I had a doctors appointment for Little Man and I was both delighted and depressed as it took place. First things first, I was shocked and appalled to see that I gained TEN POUNDS this month. For the love of all things in existence please explain to me where that all went. I don't feel like I have gained ten pounds. I certainly don't feel like I LOOK like I've gained ten pounds. The only satisfying bit I can say for the weight gain is that is brought my pregnancy total to only a mere twenty five pounds. That is not traumatizing. For those of you who knew me when I was pregnant with my girls, you would know, This Is Great. Anyway, after being told my weight situation, I got to go on back to the exam room and wait for the doc to come on in and talk to me about what all was going to happen for the next 12 weeks.

I am now officially in my third trimester, which means now I am going to my checkups every two weeks as opposed to every four. It doesn't feel like I should be at this point already but I guess I am! How time flies.

After she told me all about the glucose test I have to get and then the antibodies screening shot I have to get we got to the part I was ready for. I got to hear Little Man's heart beat. It was SO LOUD, and SO STRONG. I was actually amazed at the clarity she got as soon as she stuck the doppler up to my stomach. 

Sometimes I still can't believe that my tiny human is getting so big and is so close to being here. 

But then things like measuring my stomach happen and I realize that reality exists and time keeps moving. And then I hear things like "You're measuring big, Let's get an ultrasound!" I actually stared at her and said "Right now?!?!?"  She laughed, but seriously the way she said it I thought we were going to march on over there and check it out right then.  Apparently I am measuring ahead. Not enough to be overly concerned but enough that we should go ahead and see what's going on in there. I'm kind of panicky actually. I'm terrified they are going to say that I am going to have this baby sooner than expected. I don't know if I can handle that. I'm already freaking out about only having twelve weeks left. I certainly do not want to find out I have less. From what I've read though it's normal to be measuring big, and it's late in the game to change the due date. Here's to hoping at least!

I want my body back!!!

Pregnancy is a beautiful thing. People admire that twenty four hours a day, seven days a week for 9.5 months your body is hard at work growing a tiny human. People love to see pictures about how big you are getting, and how shiny your hair has become. They can admire your weight gain and talk about how big you are without it "really" being negative. For nine long months everything about your body is fair game for a topic of conversation.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love being pregnant when Little Man is kicking around. When my husband puts his face up to my stomach and talks to the baby, only to be rewarded with a swift kick to the jaw. When my girls climb all over me and say things like "Wake up brother, we loooove you!" When in the quiet of the night it's just me and him awake while the rest of the house is sleeping.

But I do not love that he keeps his head in my right rib almost always. I do not love that he frequently finds himself pushing onto a nerve in either my back or my hip, or even flairs up my sciatica. I do not love heartburn. I do not love missing out on sleep because I can't get comfortable. I do not love being blazing hot ninety percent of the time. I do not love that being pregnant stops me from walking too much, playing with my girls, or even cleaning my house properly.

The thing I do no love most is that I have to start all over at getting my body back.

You never appreciate how your skin was a nice golden tan because you could go to the tanning bed every day.

That your hair was growing out to a nice long length until holding it back out of your face while you throw up got too annoying and you chopped it all off.

That you fit into the jeans you wore in high school again.

That your stomach was flat flat flat even if it wasn't firmed up yet. 

That you weighed almost what you did when you got married.

That the stretch marks you have endured having were fading to a barely there silver instead of bright pink.

I want to work out. I have the urge to work out and lose weight and to get my body back.

I am ready to have this baby and have my tubes tied. No more pregnancy for me. I can accept that it will probably take awhile to get back to where I want to be. Because I know that once I start getting there, I can go all the way because I won't be having any more children. It's a delightful goal that I'm eager to get started on.

Of course, I'll probably forget all about this dream of mine until I'm approximately a year postpartum from Little Man. Something tells me the weight will slide right off once I'm chasing after three children full time. 

It has been a roller coaster kind of day. TGIF.

To begin today's post, I feel I should mention that once again I am sitting in front of my computer trying to endure the dreaded part of the day called Naptime. I'm hoping that blogging is going to take my mind off of the fact that my Monsters are indeed getting past the age where they will take naps like they used to. This every day battle is seriously becoming the dread of my existence, and I fear it is only going to get worse as times moves on and we are dealing with a newborn as well. But anyway, that is neither here nor there, because as I've said before my days never change and this is just to be expected.

I am however dealing with a new struggle that is going to last for approximately ten days. My mom is going on a mission trip to Romania (yay!!) and while that is awesome for her and for the group that is going, it is kind of bad news for me. I have recently turned into quite the mama's girl, and find myself calling my poor mother every single day to talk about nonsensical things like doing dishes and sometimes just to have someone else "here" with me. We almost never talk about anything new, I ramble ninety percent of the time, and I find that in reality, my mom probably has better things to do than listen to me talk about sweeping my floors or folding laundry. But for me it is a lifeline. A small flotation device that keeps me from being completely cut off from the adult world. And now, for the next ten days, we will be incommunicado. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about not being able to talk to my mom while I clean, or while I sit staring out my window trying to block out the noise of my children. Dear readers, you may find that I turn to you for my support in this period of solitude.

Ok, so I'm being a little melodramatic. Obviously I talk to other people, and I have other ways of communicating with adults, and I do even leave my hermit lifestyle on the weekends to hang out with my husband's side of the family. I just know that if I ever need someone to listen to me talk about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, my mom is the one. I actually can't wait for her to be back from Romania (and she's probably not even on her plane there yet!), because I know she will be eager to share all the details of the trip, and I will have lots of conversation. :) I know, I'm totally selfish. 

In other news, whilst on the phone with my darling madre this morning, (See, lifeline) I ended up having a slight confrontation with my neighbor. This has been in the works for a looooooong time, but out of respect for my hubby's wishes, I have always bit my tongue and tried to maintain an even temper when dealing with this neighbor. Some of you may know, and some of you may not know, that our driveway runs through our back yard behind our house. The end of our driveway comes to a T with his. So frequently, he uses our driveway to leave his house instead of back out of his own. This bugs me to no end. Absolutely drives me bonkers. I used to let my kids play outside in the backyard, and now I don't because I never know if he's going to be paying attention to my baby girl crouched down playing in the gravel rocks. 

Well this morning I had an unfortunate incident of a guest at his house leaving by way of my driveway. Right as I let my dog out. I asked my daughter to open the back door, and I let Lily out of her kennel. As I straighten up I see that the exact moment my dog hit the outside is the same moment this truck comes driving through my driveway. Let me say for the record, that this dog is precious to us. I think anyone who has a fur baby can say the same. Our animals are part of our family. AND my daughter was still standing by the back door. All that runs through my head is, My dog is going to get hit by a car in my own fracking driveway. Not even twenty minutes later, my neighbor does THE SAME DAMN THING. Using my driveway to leave his residence. I was still on the phone with my mom, and here she is poor soul, listening to me scream about it. Needless to say, as I walked outside going nutso I realize he didn't turn to the right but instead to the left, and his window was down and he could hear me screaming like a banshee. So what does he do, drives up the road turns around and comes back. I handed the phone to my daughter and walked outside to tell him exactly what I thought about people driving through my driveway like it's there own personal road. And as the words came out of my mouth I realized that I still sounded stark raving mad, and changed my tone just enough to soften the fact that I can't stand  the vehicle passing through my backyard like it's a damn service road. Needless to say after a year of him not giving a flip about driving all over our property, I UPSET HIM because I said I didn't like it and didn't want it to happen anymore. 

I'm livid. I despise being friendly to neighbors who have ZERO respect for my husband and I. This man is older than us by far, and treats us like teenagers. I get that. But I cannot tolerate anyone who tries to tell me what to do with my land, my kids, my dog, my yard, my house and blah blah blah. I've had it. Folks, this may turn into something crazy, all because his buddy almost hit my dog this morning.

And here I am, seven months pregnant trying to maintain the calm. I'm finding it hard to do, as my hormones are on a mother trucking rampage. That's right, I said it. RAMPAGE. *sigh*. Well, now that that's off my chest, I think I'm going to go sweep my floor again. :)

Write what you know.

I have contemplated more than once on how to write something that is uniquely different from my normal "child themed" activity. But when you are writing about something that you know, that you genuinely feel down to the core of your being, it is hard to defer from it. However, there is one other thing that I know down to the core of my being, that never ceases to amaze me. It does involve my children, but more importantly my husband. The relationship he has with our daughters is genuinely spectacular. But even more so, the way that he is so unbelievably different from other men is mind baffling. 

Last night when it was time for our girls to get in bed, our oldest decided she wanted to tell her Daddy all about how she doesn't like giants. The conversation with him went a little like this:

Monster1- Daddy, I don't like giants, they are scary. Do you like giants?
Hubby-No I guess I don't like giants.
M1-Well then, do you have a sword?
H-Oh, well, yeah of course I have a sword.
M1- Then you need to kill all the giants so they can't come in my room.
H-Well baby, the giants are bigger than me, so I don't know if I can kill all of them, but don't worry I'll keep them out of the house for sure.

At which point, he decided to take it one step further, and proceeded to cut out a little sword made of cardboard. After giving it to our daughter he said "There, now you can scare off all the giants too, and be Daddy's helper if they get in your room."

I'm pretty sure she slept with that sword all night.

Little things like this just crack me up. I marvel out how easy it is for him to come up with a solution for any problem our girls may have. Yesterday our oldest hit her head on something, and Mommy's kisses didn't make it better. So Daddy and little sister "operated" with hugs and kisses and a flashlight. Suddenly it was all better, because Daddy and "Nurse Sister" made it better. Flash forward to the same scenario with our youngest just thirty minutes later. Like I said, just amazing.

I knew when our oldest was born that there were going to be new ways of seeing this man I married. I knew there would be "Daddy Traits" to fall in love with. I just didn't know that they would continue to pop up four years later. Now, we're expecting our last child, and I'm so eager to see how having a son changes my husband. I'm eager to see how the finality of our decision on having no more children changes OUR relationship. Not that I could ask for anything better. 

Don't get me wrong, we fight like any other couple, but it more rare these days than it has been in the past. When other people talk about their marriages, more often than not I have to say things like "Oh I don't have any experience with that" or "Yeah my husband doesn't do that, that sounds more like something I would do..." I tend to feel like I'm bragging when I talk about him. But sometimes I feel like I don't brag enough on him, and what he does for us. Which is why I don't feel bad praising him right here.

My husband works for me and my girls. He does extra jobs and never tells me that he won't make it to where I can get something that I want or need. Even if it's just a $3 book I don't really need. He always makes sure that after being with the kids all day, I have time for myself. He helps out whenever I ask him to, and he steps up with our kids when I have just had enough. Really, genuinely, I couldn't ask for more. 

I actually kind of like it like that.