De-Lurking the Lurkers

Like any writer knows, we are only as good as our readers. Without the readers, we're basically a bunch of crazies talking to ourselves about things that may or may not even be relevant. 

Having reached my goal of 1000+ page views, I've decided to encourage all my readers to DE-LURK! Maybe not necessarily come right out with a profile and become a follower (Although, it's as easy as 1-2-3 to sign up and follow!), but at least come on out and comment, or even share the posts you like with your friends. A good writer can just keep writing no matter what, but sometimes we need some encouragement and to know that someone out there likes what we have to say. So even if you're just leaving an anonymous "Love what I saw" or "Hate this with a passion!" feedback is good!

Basically lurkers, Let's De-Lurk. :)

God plays The Butterfly Effect

I've learned that things happen for a reason. In fact Every Thing happens for a reason. People's paths cross at times in their lives when they will inevitably need each other. Relationships fall away and reconnect at the exact moment when God needs them to. Friendships deepen for a reason, and bonds are formed for a bigger purpose than just having someone to talk to or hang out with. 

I know all this from first hand experience. How many people have seen the Butterfly Effect? Old movie, probably the only one Ashton Kutcher was ever actually good in. This movie has so much truth in it it's not even funny. It's a movie all about how one little thing can change the course of lives forever. Currently I am marveling over how things have played out in my life. 

Such as, if I hadn't gotten the exact job that I did when I was in high school, I would have never met my husband.

If I hadn't lived in the exact house I lived in, I wouldn't have met certain people I went to high school with. 

If other people hadn't dated other people, I wouldn't have developed a friendship that I had so long ago.

If one friend hadn't chosen to take a different path on who to be friends with, I wouldn't have drifted from some of the friendships I had, and towards the ones I left school with.

If I hadn't moved out and gotten married at 18 I might have ended up in a completely different world than the one I live in now.

Say for example, I hadn't married into the family that I did, I might have never seen a marriage that has lasted for 30+ years up close and personal.

Had I never witnessed the family unit my husband's family has, I might have given in to giving up on something that has made my life better.

Say my marriage had fallen apart during a time when I thought we couldn't recover, I never would have seen my husband as an even better man than I originally thought he was.

Then we may have never reconnected with some of these old friends.Friends that didn't even know how connected we all are from the past, knowing certain people.

We may have never become so valuable to each other. 

I think that my husband and I have gained a lifelong friendship that is deeper than anything else we've ever experienced. A real friendship that could move mountains. What I'm saying is, we've gained more to our family.

Certainly I am in awe of how God works. Because I could play the butterfly effect all day and think about how things COULD be different. But God clearly didn't want it that way. He wanted us exactly where we are for a reason. Because He knew that we were going to get to this point, where we would find two people we needed, and who needed us, and that no one else would do.

For the two of you who know who I'm talking about, you know who you are, and I'm so glad that we've all found each other. 

Words From A Nerd

Once upon a time there was a girl who loved to read. Every waking second she had was devoted to her books. This girl could read and walk at the same time, often got into trouble for reading during class instead of listening to the teacher, and more often than not had no less than 6-7 books checked out from the school library at one time. Reading was pure enjoyment for her, and always the first thing taken away when she was punished. Other kids were forced to read, while this girl hid books in her locker and scrambled to finish schoolwork to read the books that had been forbidden. How many nights did she spend reading in the dark, lighting the pages of books with a cell phone? How many days did she spend her meals with the accompaniment of a book?
She lived half of her life in a fantasy world, surrounded by different characters falling in and out of love, battling dragons, and jumping through portals to different worlds. She fell into the era of Henry VIII and absorbed every detail about his beheaded wives. She ran through Hogwarts with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and sympathized with lonely and sad teenagers. Occasionally she even fought side by side Artemis and the fairy world as someone, somewhere tried to take over and destroy the world.
This girl was a nerd.

Now that's not to say that she didn't have a life. She had her family, her friends, a job, and schoolwork to stimulate her brain and sociability. But none of that compared to when she curled up with a book and everything else fell away.

Imagine her surprise when as an adult she discovered that the material available was harder to sift through as it went from fantastical creatures and parallel universes to sordid romance novels and chick lit. This poor nerd no longer could pick up just anything and disappear. She had to dig and dive into the shelves to find books with meaning and creativity. Eventually, she gave up, deciding that it wasn't worth the struggle of finding a rare treasure just to have her children disrupt every quiet moment she longed for.

Thus, the blogger was born. Instead of reading what others had to write, this young woman took it upon herself to find a way to create the creativity she longed for; to expand her horizons into life lessons and hard core facts; to find satire in diaper changes and laundry.  It's a hard journey to go from wizards to wipes. But someone has to do it.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

An idea struck me today as I sat in front of my computer wondering what the heck I could do to keep my readers interested in this blog. I'm not ashamed to say that I "Googled It". The idea that I particularly liked was to do a post based off of a photo. Now, having my Monsters repeatedly star in my own photographic projects meant that most likely this post would continue with the theme of My Children.

However, as Husband recently pointed out to me, I rarely mention him here. Now I don't know if this was his way of saying "Hey talk about me too!" or if he was pointing out that I let our children consume most of my thoughts. Maybe he was saying both of these things in the undertones of his comment. So today, for the second time, I am writing about Husband and the Monsters. 

This is the picture I chose to inspire me today. As you can see it's Husband and the Monsters staring at an empty baby swing. I feel like this is very appropriate to our current lifestyle and situation. We are eagerly waiting in anticipation for the arrival of Brother. The girls are ready to be Big Sisters, and Husband is ready to have a son. I'm just ready to not be pregnant. 

Anyway, I'm going to tell you about this swing. It is awesome. It turns in three different directions, is operated by a power cable OR batteries, has 3 speeds, 8 songs, and a spinning mobile. We love this swing. I love the idea of putting Little Man in it. 

They loved the idea of putting it together. Which is what they did. Husband (being the awesome daddy that he is) let the girls actively participate in getting this swing set up for brother. They got to hold the tools, match up the pieces, and even press the buttons once it was all done. All great stuff. My favorite part of this process though, was Monster 1 correcting her daddy during the assembly process. She is my daughter through and through, and just couldn't resist saying the words "Daddy, you are doing it WRONG!" Because in fact, he was. See the bar there in picture where the seat is connected to the top piece? Monster 1 is the one who connected the two. After screwing it part of the way in for Daddy to finish, he proclaimed that she had done it wrong and undid it. 

Imagine his surprise when our 4 year old walked over to the box, pointed at the picture and said "Daddy, I put that in the right spot. Get your 'structions!" Imagine his even greater surprise when he grabbed the instructions and had to humble himself and fix his mistake back to her original set up. 

Needless to say, after about 45 minutes of assembly work, Monster 2 clamped in the last piece (the tray with the toy, as it was the only part she cared about) and they all stood back to survey their work.  This is the picture I snapped of my loves and for me it signifies more than just the arrival of Brother. It represents the bond that my girls have with their Daddy. 

Love this crazy little life!

Life Lessons for my children

Kids say the darnedest things. Just when you think that their solemn honesty is merely amusing, and a sign of a delightful child, it becomes something that literally makes your jaw drop. Small minds have the most basic and thought invoking mindsets. Their logic makes sense, even when it doesn't. 

Anyway. So we're sitting at dinner last night night, and Husband just happened to get up and bring something back to the table that he knew I wanted. Just a simple sweet gesture, not unusual for him to do. But I turned to my daughter and said "Your daddy is so sweet, he is going to bring me some rice!" and she looked at me and said "Did you ASK him to bring you rice?". I told her that no I didn't, her daddy is just super sweet. At this point I looked at her adorable little face and told her "Sweetheart, when you grow up you need to find and marry a guy just like your Daddy!" to which she responded with "Well, then I think when I grow up, maybe I will just marry Brother!"

Like I said, their logic makes sense, even when it doesn't. 

Of course, at this point we had to explain to her that she can't marry her brother and in fact she won't want to by the time they are at the age to prepare for wedded bliss. But her statement really got me thinking. She understood what I was saying. I told her to find someone like her Daddy and the first thing she thinks of is that Brother is going to be just like Daddy. 

This is a point where, as a parent, reality strikes. Let me explain why. 

My husband is one of the most thoughtful, caring, forgiving, and compassionate men I have ever met. You would be hard pressed to prove to me that there is a better man out there than mine. In fact, even if you DID find a man that was seemingly a saint, I still wouldn't believe that he was better than Husband. Going with this knowledge I know that my son is going to be looking up to his Daddy and learn the way a real man should act. Not just towards his kids, or his family, or even just towards strangers. My son will have a role model who teaches him how to treat a woman. Believe me, if my son picks up anything at all from Husband, his future wife will be a lucky lady. 

Knowing this, I realized that I am so lucky to have this man beside me, because my daughters are also going to see the qualities they should look for in a guy. 

Then it hit me. Here I am gushing and full of adoration for the wonderful example they are going to see and I realized. I have two daughters. Two intelligent, beautiful daughters who are watching Everything I Do as a mother, and as a wife. Holy Crow. Now that's some pressure. Suddenly I'm analyzing what they see when they watch me. 

Now I know they see that Mommy cooks dinner for them, and cleans their clothes, helps pick up their toys, and washes their dishes. They know that Mommy will snuggle with them in the mornings, make cozy beds for us all to lay around and watch cartoons on. Mommy kisses boo-boos, and wipes away tears. Mommy disciplines them when they have done something they shouldn't, and rewards them when they act right. 

But I'm evaluating not just what they see in me as "Mommy" but also as "Daddy's Wife".

This is where things get tricky. My oldest daughter has already picked up on quite a few tricks of the trade from her Mama. If you know me, you may have seen once upon a time what I call "The Look." The Monsters know The Look. Husband knows The Look. Heck, my nieces and nephews know The Look. I learned it from my dad, and now I see that my daughter has already learned it from me. There are two forms of The Look. There's the exasperated "I can't believe you just said/did/thought that" look and then there is the Withering Stare. My daughter has perfected the withering stare. How many times have her and I been sitting together and simultaneously given Husband "That Look", only for him to say "Monster, you look just like your Mama"?  How many times have my girls said to their Daddy something that I would say to him? How often do I see my girls wrapping their Daddy around their little fingers, only to know exactly where they learned to do it?

It is a humbling reality to be sure. It is also cause for some self examination.

I am a firm believer that your marriage is the most important part of the family dynamic. It's a recent hard lesson that I have had to learn, but when you think about it, if your marriage isn't in the right place, your FAMILY isn't in the right place. Children learn what they are taught. They follow our example. They can know with every fiber of their being that they are loved, but if they can't see that Mommy and Daddy love each other, they will never learn really and truly what love is. Or, it will be a hard lesson for them to learn as adults, and could potentially result in damaged relationships on their part. 

What I'm saying is, I want my daughters to see what I see in my husband. I want them to see ME love their dad in every way that I can. To know that before they existed, we weren't Daddy and Mommy, we were Husband and Wife. To know that when they leave this house, their parents will remain Husband and Wife. Because in reality, your children are in your hearts forever, but in your home for what seems like mere minutes. At the end of the day, the only person who will be left to live by your side forever is your spouse. And if my children don't learn now what it means to love another person, they may face some serious challenges as adults. 

So I have set a personal challenge for myself. Another quest you could call it. I am challenging myself to not just be Mommy, like I have been for the past four years, but to also be Wife. I am challenging myself to teach my daughters the same things I know Husband will teach our son. How to treat your spouse with love, adoration, and respect. To show them that the greatest thing two parents can do for their children is to Love Each Other.  

This is actually something Husband used to end all his messages to me with. I hope one day my children find a spouse who believes this for them too.

heck yeah!

I feel I should take a moment to proudly announce that my blog has reached 1000 page views. Now, I'm no Shakespeare, and I know my satire and witty banter about my life is not always the most entertaining or amusing literature, but nevertheless I want to say thank you to all of you who read my words! And while I aspire to eventually be life changing, for now I'll settle for thought evoking.
Have a wonderful night and keep on reading!

My sense of accomplishment.

Ok ladies and gents, I have a confession to make. I suck at laundry. I abhor doing it, and I almost always shrink something. At least, this is the mentality that I have carried over from my teenage years when all the family laundry mishaps were blamed on me. Something was supposed to be dry cleaned, but I'm the one who screwed it up by assuming people should just keep that stuff separate. Go figure, right? Anywho, I was bad. I had to be supervised by my younger sister when we were sorting through and washing loads of laundry. Eventually I was put on a "laundry watch" and was limited to the basics that just cannot be screwed up. Towels, washrags, t-shirts, etc. The mantra that was drilled into our heads as teens was "Read the tags! Check the pockets!"
Yeah, by the time I was moved out and doing Husband's and my laundry, it was much easier. I washed what we needed and left the rest, and NEVER EVER bought something that had to be a gentle wash. Because I just didn't have the patience for it. Needless to say, this approach to our household clothing was not the best. Mostly because I very rarely left the house and I was pregnant, so my clothes were limited to about 5 outfits. Husband only needed a clean pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and a pair of socks each day for work and only worked 4 days a week. And of course, underwear was easy. Soon, I got used to only washing a load a week, and crammed everything in there together, and bam, I was done!
This was not as easy once we had children. Suddenly I had tiny humans getting EVERYTHING they owned dirty. Stains were not something  I understood, because well, most grown adults know how to eat without spilling everything on their shirt. I say most, because I'm sure out there somewhere, there is a poor wife/mother who cannot keep her husband and teens from accessorizing with ketchup. Children though, infants to be precise, leak from every orifice of their bodies. Which means a lot of stains. Suddenly my laundry piles turned into mountains. Having girls meant we had a lots of clothes. Clothes were everywhere in our small two bedroom apartment. Blankets, and sheets, a task that I couldn't even fathom. One load a week just didn't cut it anymore. I could swim in all of our clothing. Drown in them is probably even more accurate. Because that was what was happening. I was drowning in a sea of clothes that never seemed to end. And of course the solution when you feel like you don't have any clothes to actually wear, is to buy more. This was an incessant and sick cycle I found myself in.

Moving into our house brought on a good purge. But still I didn't manage to get it ALL clean before the move, and started out in our new house with loads of laundry ahead of me. Not just one or two, but multiple sickening and depressing loads. By the time I found out I was pregnant with baby number 3, I had enough. The laundry had somehow ended up in the baby's room, a room which I knew had to be emptied. It could no longer be storage space, because we had to make room for another tiny human. So started a personal quest of sorts. I vowed that before I gave birth to a baby we potentially did not have room for, I was going to purge our house of all sorts of unnecessary things. In five years, Husband and I have accumulated a lot of STUFF.  So for the past five months or so I have been set on completing my quest. I have cleaned out toys, books, nick knacks, shoes, dishes, and most importantly Clothes. 50% of the clothing we once owned has since been donated to various places and people. It felt great to watch load after load leave my house. But still, I was faced with the "keeper clothes" that I had to conquer. I was drained of doing laundry so consistently and ended up taking a break that lasted about a month, in which I fell back into the cycle of only washing what I needed, but managing to break the habit of leaving the clean clothes in hampers to be dug through. I mastered the organization of our closets and dressers during this month hiatus from excessive clothes washing.
About 5 days ago this funny little situation overcame me, and I couldn't ignore it. I started nesting. Meaning, I feel compelled on a constant basis to clean everything in sight, and I never feel like I've done enough to prepare for the bundle of joy that will be here in approximately 4.5 weeks. I faced the end of my pregnancy with one thing in mind: My Quest. The vital part of my quest was that I wanted to be laundry free for the first time in five years, before our son arrives.

Ladies and gentleman, today I washed my very last load of laundry. For the first time in Five Years of living out of my parent's home, I do not have a single load of laundry to wash. Every room has been purged and scoured for clothes, and every article of clothing has been washed. Every extra blanket. An area rug. Doll clothes. Every towel and washcloth, and every sheet and pillowcase we own. It is all Clean.
Now I know this will last until about...tomorrow. But for now, a few short hours I am a new woman, who has conquered an entire household of laundry and then some. I am accomplished.

I can honestly say that today my post is going to be a lot of rambling about basically nothing. I am in that kind of mood.
Which is to say, I'm in a mood where I don't know how I'm feeling and I'd rather word vomit than try to focus in on one emotion.

I am finally sleeping better at night. Correction, I am finally sleeping better in the mornings once hubby goes to work. Why, you ask? Because for some reason having the entire bed to myself makes my life soooo much easier. That's not to say that I don't wish I could wake up and have my hubby here all the time, but I at least can enjoy the fact that I'm sleeping a little better.
This, however, is not causing my mood to improve to greatly. The past few mornings I have dealt with waking up and rolling out of bed to deal with the fact that my youngest Monster has in fact morphed into a monster. Monster2 has reached the official terrible twos. She fights with me every single morning, and refuses to listen to something as simple as "Come here, so I can change your diaper". She gets an attitude, and has decided that her new favorite thing to do is tell other people what they can't do. My sister in law was over yesterday to visit, and what does my Monster do? Starts screaming and crying because she didn't want her Aunt talking to her Mommy. The screaming has actually reached a limit of monumental stress. I can't go anywhere without this child bursting into tears. She cries to get attention, I think, and to be honest, I'm not sure how to handle it because this child is most certainly NOT attention deprived. We snuggle and play daily, we talk about all kinds of things (as much as you can with a two year old) and her sister is a fantastic big sister. For some reason though, this does not stop Monster 2 from reverting back into her "baby phase" of whining instead of talking, not using her words, and of crying. Incessantly.

Friends, I'm at my whits end! With a newborn on the way in just a mere 6 weeks (less than to be exact), I am not sure if I can handle all of the crying and fit throwing that my previously perfectly content child has undertaken as her new personality. Should anyone have any advice on how to get my 2-almost-3 year old to stop using the words "No I won't" as her go to response, please, leave a comment below to help save a frustrated mama!

On a completely different but not unrelated topic, I am 34.5 weeks pregnant. I have less than 6 weeks left before my little man makes his appearance in this world. I am kind of shocked that it has happened so fast, but miserable that there is still so much time left! I've recently decided that I must have a distant relation to an elephant, whose gestation cycle is 22 months. In other words, I feel like I've been pregnant for freaking ever. My ribs hurt consistently. My hips crack when I walk. My breath catches just at the thought of standing for more than ten minutes. I get stuck if I lay down too long because it physically hurts to get up. I have heartburn just from drinking water! Which to me seems damn near ridiculous. Who gets heartburn from WATER for crying out loud? I do, that's who. My bladder has reduced to the size of my pinky fingernail. Oh yes, it's that small. The result is that I am constantly peeing. Sometimes on myself. Pregnancy is ridiculous.
But it's also beautiful. Every time I am doubled over in pain from a particularly strong kick in my side, I remember that every single day this baby gets bigger and stronger. Every day he gets closer to being here with me, and I cannot wait.

The final monumental marker of my pregnancy is my baby shower, which has finally arrived and will occur in just a mere day and a half. I am actually really excited. But I'm sad as well. It's my last shower. My last baby. The time has actually come where I can say, after this, no more. And who knows when we'll get another niece or nephew.

Friends, now I am sad. I think it's time to stop while I am ahead and just camp out on the couch with my girlies. I considered folding laundry, but I've decided against it.
Hope you all have a wonderful day.

Grrrrrrrr.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. My daughters have been getting into everything, and making ridiculous messes. Can I just say I am freaking tired of cleaning up spilled cereal?? I want to get back into bed and have all of us sleep for the rest of the day. I'm that irritated. Perhaps if the day just doesn't happen, there's no more opportunities for it to suck.

Now that I have spewed unfiltered thoughts...

I am going to write all about the things that make me happy these days.

My oldest daughter was talking with me the other night, all about how she was going to be my helper when brother is born. I can honestly say I am delighted to see her embracing this new role of The Biggest Sister. She is such an angel! Always talking about how she can't wait to meet brother, and hold him, and play with him. My favorite little moments of hers are when she tells me this "I can't wait to see what Brother's hair looks like!" I have no idea why she is fascinated with the idea of Brother's hair, but she talks about it all the time. I think she thinks babies are all like Rapunzel, with magic hair that you should never cut. It's sweet really. Poor brother though. She may never let us cut his hair. :)

I am watching anxiously as my youngest daughter develops a sense of humor. She loves getting attention, and will do just about anything for it. This is the cause for the anxiety, as I think about how soon our lives are going to change. However, she is a funny little creature, and is finally able to Use Her Words. I thought for so long that she was never going to talk for herself, and now that she does, she just delights me every day. I don't think a single day passes, actually, where she hasn't made me laugh.

My son (how weird it is that I can say this!) is also a source of happiness. No matter how much I despise the aches and pains as he gets bigger and bigger, I love the way he responds already to certain things. My girls laying next to my belly, and off he goes in an excited little flutter to beat up his sisters. It starts young apparently! When he hears his daddy's voice, he just kicks away. In fact, he's already so in tune with his daddy, that he's on the same schedule! Every morning, baby boy and I wake to the alarm that my husbands gets up to. Little man just kicks and kicks, as if he knows that Daddy is off to work, and he just doesn't like it. I'm so eager for him to be here.

I'm terrified too, of course. I would think myself crazy if I wasn't. Three babies!!! I just can't even imagine being able to hold all of them, and snuggle together on the couch.

I think I've reached the limits of being able to string together coherent thoughts. My monsters are in full force, going through all the photo albums containing their baby pictures. I think I'm going to join them and reminisce on the days when they themselves were itty bitty.

A letter to the strangers

I've found that people think it is ok to just comment on everything about my body to me. It is wholly disturbing as they are not living inside my body, they do not know what I am feeling, and they tend to think they know better than me. I've yet to encounter the issue of weight gain questions, but I feel it's just around the corner as I am frequently told that I look huge. Being part of the "message boards for Mommies" (I'm telling you it's just not worth it, but I just can't quit!) I get the delights of reading the comments of "You're almost there" from people who gave birth...Oh two months ago. I'm actually glad that I don't really even participate in one of these boards, because goodness me, I have found that I cannot stop myself from responding crazily. 

So I've decided I'll write a little letter to all those (who will probably never even read this) that think they know my body, my baby, and my life better than me. :)

Dear people-who-know-more-than-I,

I feel I should start by saying that this is, in fact, my THIRD pregnancy. I've done it before. Which means I know what to expect when I'm expecting. I don't need your unsolicited advice, or encouragement or even for you to relate to it. I remember most of what I'm experiencing from when I was pregnant the first TWO TIMES. So please, respectfully, stop talking.

If only I could end this here. But alas, I cannot because I've learned people simply don't think you are talking to them when you say, Stop Talking.

I am in fact massive. Yes. I get it. I am 7 1/2 months pregnant, and yes I do still have 7 weeks left. I do not care if you think I look like I'm going to have a big ole baby, or pop any day. Thanks for that though.Also, when I say I have 7 weeks left, I don't need to hear "Oh you're so close!" I'm sorry if I don't care that you think that's amaze-balls. I don't. To me, 7 weeks is two more months of my bladder getting poked and prodded; two more months of being unable to get out of bed without crying; no Mexican food unless I have started the meal without the delightful appetizer of Tums; two more months of my bathroom and I being very closely acquainted. Two more hellish months of not even being able to cuddle with my husband at night, because I have to use 5 pillows(no less!) to sleep decently. Nothing you can say will make me feel better about this. 

When I say I don't remember something, most likely I'm exaggerating. Because like I said, I've done this before. Multiple times. 

I am miserable. There is nothing you can say that will make me feel better about the fact that I am miserable. I don't complain about it often to anyone other than my immediate family, because well, it's nobody else's business. But please, dear stranger with two or less children, don't tell me that the third one is the hardest. I've already discussed that with my doctor thank you very much. And I'm pretty sure it was hard to get up off the couch the first two times. I'm pretty sure that it felt like the baby was just going to fall out with both of those pregnancies as well. Because that's how pregnancy works. It sucks.

What I hate more than the comments about my appearance/misery is when people tell me, "It's so worth it once it's over".

Yes. No kidding. I am aware that at the end of this I get to bring home a baby.

I have two children already, remember? Two beautiful, rotten, hyperactive, snotty nosed, messy haired, loud mouthed children. You don't have to tell me what to look forward. Sleepless nights? Guess what, I already have those. Your one child is nothing in comparison to my soon to be three. I know it is worth it, or I wouldn't have taken the opportunity to get pregnant again. In fact, since I can use the word AGAIN, I also remember that babies cry, poop, need to be held, and sometimes, they are just inconsolable. Not my first rodeo.

Not to mention I'm pretty confident that I can say my first two angels did all of that and then some. 

I know all about the issues that can come about from breastfeeding, because I think I might have done it once or twice, or for two point five years. But who's counting?

I also hate that when I am on the Mommy Boards, other women want to come on over to talk to us due in October. Post "helpful advice" about how to handle your newborn. Post photo bombs about there newborns. Talk about how close we are.

Here's my response to that. Nobody Cares. Oh, and add a disclaimer that says "First time moms, if you WANT some advice, here it is" not "Advice from a been there done that mom" because all I'm going to do is laugh at you. Girl please, let me post pictures of my 4 year old throwing a fit over on YOUR BOARD. and say "Now THIS is from a BTDT Mama, look what you get to look forward to!"

Here's another hot topic for me. Birth control.  I'm at the point in my life that I get to make the decision to sterilize myself, because I have enough children to feel secure in that decision. And yes, I did consider whether or not it should be my husband instead of me. And I PERSONALLY chose that I never again want to be pregnant. So get off your high horse that you would force your man to do it. That doesn't make you smart, it makes you a bi-atch who doesn't respect your man. Of course, you should know I say that only to the ones who actually use the words "I don't want to be pregnant again, but I'm going to make my husband get snipped, I'd never do it to myself". To that I say, well it's no wonder he's a little tense. The rest of you who have discussed it with him, I exalt thee for being part of a communicative partnership. :) Also, I do not need to hear "Are you sure this is what you want?" I was high fiving the nurses when I signed my papers for the procedure. Because I know what I want. Don't question it, and please, if you value your life, do not give me your opinion on my reproductive organs. I've been on the pill, I've done the IUD, I have even relied on plain old condoms. Been There, Done That. So no, I do not care if you think I'm too young to make such a life altering decision. Last I checked, I don't need your consent. But thanks anyway.

It seems these days that my filter has disappeared. You may think that this is all stemming from hormones, please feel free to think that way. But I can honestly say, It's Not. I am firmly in the belief that unless you are one of the following people : My husband, One of my mothers (ILs included) or one of my fathers, My bff with whom I DO share every explicit detail, or My baby sister, then I am not required to share anything with you. I may talk with you cordially and allow you to reminisce about when you were there, but that does not mean that I want you to turn my experience into a chance to talk about yourself. 

And Lastly. (Oh and this is a big one) Please do not shove your parenting ideals down my throat. I DO NOT GIVE A FLYING FLIP if you think that crying it out is torture, or if you don't agree with my decisions in regards to my child's body, or if you think you are just the shiz kind of mom. That's great. Keep it to yourself. Because I will do what works for MY family. You know the one? The one that includes myself, my husband, my two daughters, and soon, my son? I'm pretty sure your name isn't in there. If my children don't call you mommy, you have no right to tell me what to do with them. That is all. 

I hope you have enjoyed this little reading experience. Because yes, to all of you nose in the air strangers who want to tell me what to do, this was for you.

Now some funnies!

            

That is all. 

I read something interesting today...

So I frequent those Mommy Forums that I have advocated every mom stay away from. Why? Because I am a gluten for punishment. However, once in a while I find something invaluable on these delightful boards. This particular bit that I'm about to post may be offensive to you, depending on where you stand as far as government assistance. However, as a mother who has been on it and has to read comments and "funny" pictures about people who are on GA being the ones who are ruining this country, well, I just had to share.

The 10 commandments for people receiving government assistance:

1. Thou shalt not have nice clothing, handbags, shoes, etc. It doesn't matter if they were gifts, second hand, or bought during better times. You are poor, and should look poor. How else will others identify you?

2. Cell phones, internet, cable TV are all too good for you. It doesn't matter if you need them to look for work or to get an education or if they are the only entertainment your family has. It also doesn't matter if cancelling these services would result in major contract termination fees.

3. Thou shalt not spend food stamps on fancy foods. Velveeta and Wonder Bread are good enough for you.

4. Thou shalt look appropriately humiliated when using food stamps or WIC vouchers.

5. Thou shalt pull yourself up by your bootstraps. If that doesn't work, thou shalt pull harder.

6. Thou shalt not be seen in any vehicle nicer than a 1976 Dodge Dart. Ever. Never buy, borrow or accept a ride in anything nicer.

7. Thou shalt sell every possession that is not absolutely necessary to sustain life. If you are not living a life as austere as a Buddhist monk is, you have too much and are sponging off the system.

8. Thou shalt allow thyself to be scrutinized and criticized at all points by any taxpayer who wishes. After all, they are funding your lifestyle.

9. Thou shalt not reproduce. Even if your children came at a time when you didn't need government assistance, you should have anticipated you would need it in the future and used a condom.

10. Thou shalt remember that no matter what, it is your fault you are poor. You chose this.

Sometimes, I think that people forget that most of us don't ask for life to kick us in the face. So there is my funny post for the week. :)

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.