Psssssstttt.....

Come a little closer. I don't want to talk to loudly, lest I jinx myself.

A little bit closer. I'm just going to whisper this next part.

Okay. I'm 12 weeks pregnant. I'm on Day #3 of no puking. I know, I know, it is a miracle worthy of notifying the Vatican. Today I haven't even been tempted to puke. And I had Skyline for lunch (if you don't know what that is, go to Cincinnati and ask for chili on spaghetti). That makes some non-pregnant people want to puke. Can you grasp the amazingness of this??? I think I was about 16 weeks pregnant before I had ONE puke free day with Lily...and I puked several times a week until well past 20 weeks. Could I possibly pass through the worst of "morning/all day" sickness with the passing of my first trimester? There would be no need to chuck "What to Expect When You're Expecting" right through the window on week 13 when it says, 'By now you should be feeling better, with the nauciousness passing" Oh, Holy Heavens. Now that I've whispered this, I'll probably throw up 5 times tomorrow. But regardless...this is going much better than the last time.

Now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

Edited to add: I kid you not...15 minutes after smugly posting this, I suddenly went upstairs and turned inside out. Had a magnificent technicolor spew. Ralphed. Upchucked. Puked. Threw up. You get the idea. Luckily, Skyline was long gone. Sadly, the piece of pumpkin pie was not...what a waste. I'll have to see if I can keep another piece of that down. But 2 days ain't shabby, right? I have no one but myself to blame for jinxing day number 3. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

No Whining...except from me, that is

Pregnant women are forced to survive without wine for an entire 9 months. I think this wine exclusion should include the word "whine." I feel as though I should have exclusive rights to whining for the next several months at least. Selfish? That's right. Welcome to the "Giselle Selfish Bubble of Misery". I'll be residing here for at least the next several weeks.

So my children are full of whine. Especially Andrew. The child won't sleep. Combine that with the fact that I pay virtually no attention to him (see the "Giselle Selfish Bubble of Misery"). Combine that with the fact he's been eating a lot of CRAP since no one is cooking (see the "Giselle Selfish Bubble of Misery"). You get one grouchy, whiny kid. Seriously. Every word is a whine. And he's so daggone destructive. I can hardly get mad at him because I understand he is neglected and simply begging for attention. But I DO get mad at him, because I feel like crap and my nerves are stretched to their limit just from existing these last few weeks. And getting mad at him only makes him MORE grouchy and whiny. Aren't you starting to feel sorry for Jeff right about now?

And poor Lily. Yesterday I took her to get blood drawn while Andrew was at school. When Andrew turned one, he never had this done. So it was all new to me. And they went to draw blood out of her like a real grown-up...rubber band around her arm...trying to find a vein in the crook of her elbow. Amazing. But she has apparently inherited the slippery, sneaky veins that I have and I believe my mother and Memere also have. Lucky girl. So after digging around in her arm a bit, they decided to get 2 vials of blood from her finger. Seriously. Poor Lily was bathed in sweat and tears at the end of that ordeal. I was sooooooo angry. Why torture this poor little thing? And I didn't realize how bad it would be to have an open wound on her finger. Why couldn't they do it in her heel? Because it is dangerous to have a band aid on her finger (I can't find one...and will be looking for it in her diaper). But because she's crawling around on it, it breaks open and bleeds all over everything all the time. I finally put one of those tattoo band aids (that will only come off with the jaws of life). Lily was so upset to have something stuck to her finger, she just followed me around whining and holding her finger out to me, as if to say, "Mooooooom. This sucks! Take it off!" MORE WHINING.

Then there's my whining. Seriously, poor Jeff. To have to go through this a 3rd time is a testament to his love for me and the kids. Half the evenings, dinner makes me so sick, I crawl upstairs into bed to try and keep food down. Andrew is hyperactive and needy. Lily only wants me, so he's constantly fighting her to allow me some down time. Even the damn dog won't leave him alone...lying on his feet whenever he stops to stand still. Andrew got up in the middle of the night with wet pj's...Jeff had to finish the job, because my becoming vertical at 2 am was punished by throwing up stomach bile. He was trying to finish a project in the basement and I brought Lily down to visit. I coughed and immediately thrust the baby into his arms while I went upstairs and lost my lunch. The stories are endless. He's not allowed to kiss me. I don't even want hugs. I've totally retreated into the Giselle Bubble of Misery. So he's working his tail off with no paybacks.

But I would trade with him any day of the week.

I think.

Although I couldn't stand all the whining...at least I could ease the pain with some real WINE!

The Big Reveal

We finally told Andrew last night that we are indeed having another baby. I had another doctor's appointment, where they found the baby's heartbeat with the Doppler. Even though they warned me about 10 times that it was early and they may not be able to find it...they found it really quickly. Gifted baby. Nice and strong, nice and fast...about 160 beats a minute. No more denying it...this baby is here to stay. (as if throwing up after every meal hasn't been convincing enough). And don't even bother telling me it's a girl because it is 160 beats a minute. Both my kids had high heartbeats at this stage, and both dropped. And Lily's was always lower than Andrew's. So there. Old wives' tale...I poo poo you.

Anyhoo, back to telling Andrew. I had my appointment at night, so Jeff could watch the kids. I had told Andrew earlier in the day that I was going to the doctor to find out why I was so sick all the time. Here's how the conversation went once I got home and found Jeff, Lily, and Andrew in a big pile on our big chair.

Giselle: "Well, Andrew, the doctor found out why Mommy keeps getting sick."
Andrew: looks blankly at me...he has already forgotten that I was gone
G: "The doctor found another baby in my tummy!"
(at this point, Jeff has a completely silent, full-blown panic attack, thinking I am announcing that they found twins. Until he realizes that Andrew didn't know about the first baby, and I am talking about another baby besides him and Lily.)
A: Andrew's eyes get huge. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
G: "Well, they can't tell yet. The baby is too small. It's only the size of a grape right now."
A: "A red grape or a green grape?"
G: "No, the baby isn't really a grape...just the size of a grape."
A: "What are we having for dinner?"

Ah...so sentimental.

I miss my mommy

There's nothing like being sick to make you feel loved. From my little dog nuzzling me and looking at me with worried eyes while I vomit. From my little boy who will rub my back and ask how I'm feeling in such a sweet little voice (again as I worship the porcelain God). From my 11 month old little girl who pushes me out of the way so she can try to play in the toilet water. Oh wait. That's not touching. That's disgusting. And especially from my saint of a husband who has really gotten this loving thing down the 3rd time around. Coming home from work and totally taking over the children, tucking me into bed at 8 pm and then doing the dishes, picking up the kids' toys, making the bottles for the next day, etc etc etc. Yes, I feel very loved these last few weeks.

But I miss my mommy. She's not gone for good, I only have to share her with Russia for a few weeks. But there's just something immensely comforting about being sick and having your mom to worry about you. My friends just don't want to hear about it. My kids don't really care if I don't feel well (except for the few fleeting sweet moments like I mentioned above). Poor Jeff is too haggard from being a single parent to really worry about little old puking me. But when Mom is around, I can always count on a sympathetic call during the day, just to check on how I'm feeling. Even if she knows the answer is going to be, "yuck", she will still call to offer her sympathies and lend a listening ear. No mother likes their baby to be sick...and I will always be one of my mom's babies. That's nice. And healing in some sort of way.

It makes me feel really bad for those of you out there without your moms. Because I hate being without mine for just a few weeks. I can't imagine it being permanent.

Magazines

Andrew has more magazine subscriptions than I do. Which is fine. We look forward to getting them in the mail, and even more we enjoy reading them, playing the games in them, etc etc. It's a nice change from the constant reading of books.

This morning, I am not feeling well. I am fighting the urge to puke with all my heart and soul...mostly because I don't want to fix another breakfast. How lazy is that? But I already threw up my first breakfast...fixing 3 breakfasts in one morning seems a bit extreme.

What does this mean for my children? I am snippy and short and quite a bit neglectful. I made them both breakfast, got them dressed...what more do they want. I have been desperately trying to zombify Andrew in front of the tv...but he just wants to play with me. -sigh- I keep telling him to give me a little bit, I don't feel well. My tummy is sick. Finally, when he tried to shove a bucket on my head, I snapped at him, "Just a minute or two! That's all I ask! Go play by yourself!"

Andrew climbed up on the couch and began reading the new magazine that we got yesterday in the mail. This particular magazine is way too advanced for him, and has things like questionaires in it. Since it was a gift, we just keep receiving it, and we enjoy the pictures and what articles we can get through. Andrew is leafing through the magazing while I watch the Today show.

He suddenly says, "Mommy, I want to ask you 3 questions from this magazine."

"Okay," I respond.

"Who is one person that is being very mean to her children today?"

Which makes me laugh like a crazy person. What a weirdo. Now if I could just feel better...I could actually enjoy him!

Tucking me in

Last night, we did something that I think every mother should try. Andrew tucked me into bed. He had a nap yesterday, so by 8 pm, he was still WIDE awake. I have been going to bed at 8...forcing myself to stay up until 8, I should say. It's just embarrassing to go to bed at 7.

So Andrew came upstairs with me. After I got into my pjs, I climbed into bed. Andrew sat on the edge of the bed and patted my leg. Jeff turned off the light and left us alone. Andrew sang me the ABC's and then gave me a kiss. He left the room, and as he was closing the door, he said, "Have a good sleep!"

It was so cute to listen to him take ME through the bedtime routine. And he was so SERIOUS about it...a very important job to him.

Questionable

Pregnancy is long and boring. Especially when it's not happening to you. Yet people feel obligated to discuss it with you...even if they have nothing to say. Which is most of the time...40 weeks is a lot of small talk time to fill. It starts even before you get knocked up. If you are married and of child-bearing years, you are subject to these repetitive questions that almost never lead to interesting conversation. I have compiled a list to help those of you out there who have not done this pregnancy thing and are curious:

Pre-conception.
-Are you going to have kids?
-Are you going to have more kids?
-You're not going to have MORE kids, are you?

Post pregnancy announcement/1st trimester.
-How are you feeling? (If you answer good, they will tell you how lucky you are. If you answer bad, they will give you 1,001 tried and true home remedies. And tell you it will be over soon.)

-Are you going to find out the gender? (If you answer no, they will ask you why because they LOVED knowing or they will say "Good for you!" If you answer yes, you will more than likely get a long winded answer about how you are ruining one of the few true surprises in life. (people who don't find out the gender have a major superiority complex. You must be prepared to deal with it...or join their club and spend the rest of your life judging the rest of the "surprise-ruiners") )

2nd trimester (aka: the most uneventful trimester).
-Are you going to find out the gender? (see rant above)

-How are you feeling? (God forbid you answer crummy. Nobody wants a depressing answer by this point. They are SICK of you answering you are SICK.)

-Isn't this the best part of pregnancy? Enjoy it, because the next one drags. (Gee, thanks. Since it's too late for me to get out of it by now...)

-Wow, aren't you really small for this far along? Shouldn't you be showing more?

-Wow, aren't you really big for this far along? How big are you going to get?

- Do you have names picked out? (If you don't, be prepared for a long list of suggestions which you must dodge judgment of with polite smiles, nods, and enthusiastic, "Mmmmmm, yes. I hadn't thought of THAT one.")

3rd trimester (aka: the longest trimester).
-Haven't you had that baby yet?

-Are you having twins? I've never seen anyone that huge.

-What names do you have picked out? (If you do, be prepared for people dodging judgement with polite smiles, nods, and overly enthusiastic, "Mmmmmm, yes. I hadn't thought of THAT one.")

- Are you scared about ______________? (3rd trimester is the perfect time for everyone's most horrific birth stories to come out. When I was 9 months pregnant with Andrew, I actually had a woman ask me if I was scared about him strangling himself with his umbilical cord. Because that's what happened to her SIL. Gee...thanks for freaking me out. I wasn't scared enough about passing this watermelon through my Hoo-Ha. Now I have to worry if the baby is going to survive? Excellent timing!)

4 days after having the baby.
-Are you going to have more kids?
-You're not going to have MORE kids, are you?


I'm sure those of you who have been pregnant can add to my list of repetitive questions. For the record, I'm not judging the questioners. I am one of them. I try not to do the more obnoxious ones, but sometimes I give in. It's like watching a car wreck. You know you shouldn't participate, but you just can't help yourself. I see a pregnant woman, and before I know it, I've popped out one of the dumb questions. It's practically unavoidable. Because if you don't ask anything, you look like an insensitive ass who doesn't care that they are busy creating a little miracle.

Next post: Am I going to find out the gender? and How am I feeling?

First day of school

The past few weeks...no months...Andrew has been telling me he hates school and doesn't want to go. The last few days I've been gently trying to get him used to the idea...and he has told me over and over that he is nervous and doesn't want to go. At orientation last week he cried. And told me he was nervous. And almost cried every time we talked about school.

So I was understandably dreading today. Not for myself. I am a relatively non-sentimental mother when it comes to school. Last year, at the first day of 2 year old pre-school, I showed up with Andrew. I did make sure he was in a clean t-shirt. My big prep for the first day of school. I show up, and it is like high school graduation. Or college drop-off weekend. Moms, Dads, Grandparents and all these 2,3,and 4 year olds dressed to the nines. Flash-bulbs blinding as if it was the red carpet at the Oscars. Talk about feeling inadequate. I hadn't even thought to take a picture of him at home...much less at school.

So this year, I was really good. I put a clean, MATCHING outfit on Andrew. Yes, even matching socks. I took a picture of him in front of our front door. Whew! I'm getting teary eyed just thinking of it. And I drove him to school not knowing what his reaction would be. All the weeks of tears! Anticipation!

They throw open the doors...and...

Andrew runs in, without looking behind him. No hugs for Mom. No goodbyes. Certainly no tears.

I went to pick him up 2 and a half hours later. Big smiles. Oh, how he loves school! Here's our conversation post school:

Andrew: School was great!
Giselle: That is so wonderful. Did you cry?
A: (in a disgusted tone) No. (if he were born in the 90s, he would have said, "As if")
G: Did anyone cry?
A: Just one girl.
G: Did you help make her feel better?
A: Nope. I was too busy playing. (ah....already a sensitive male)
G: Well, I'm proud of you. I know you were nervous, but you went to school anyway and had a good time.
A: I was never nervous. I love school.

-sigh- Gotta love this boy.

Drudgery

I don't know what to post about today. I feel like I just did this pregnancy thing...I just recently bored you with posts about throwing up and wanting to kill myself. About my little boy being so bored he acts out...which makes his grouchy mommy lash out at him and then wallow in guilt the rest of the day. About how I dream of eating, but in reality I am carefully looking at every meal thinking, "Yes, it will taste good going down. But how will it feel coming up?" About how all I want to do is be hooked up to an IV with nutrients and crawl into a bed for the next few months. And these all sound like terribly pathetic posts, so I will pass on all of them.

I am trying my hardest to take this pregnancy one day at a time. As in, "Okay, I only threw up once today. Not too bad" or "I felt like death would be preferable today, but I made it through managing to keep not only myself, but also my children alive." You know, one day at a time. But I find myself remembering. And having had 2 bad experiences, I find myself anticipating. Anticipating months of feeling like this. Which just makes you feel 10 times worse. Imagine having the stomach flu. Yuck, right? Now imagine you go to the doctor, and he tells you it will go away in 11 weeks. 3 months. You leave feeling infinitely yuckier.

So hard as I try, I find myself wallowing in my past experience. After 2 yucky pregnancies, I've lost all patience with well-meaning strangers and friends. Yes, I've tried ginger. Yes, I've tried motion sickness bands. Yes, I've eaten Saltines in the morning. B-6? Tried it. This is my 3rd pregnancy. The only thing I've found that helps my sickness is having the baby. So please don't offer me any advice. Don't tell me it will all be over soon. Nothing you have to say will be earth-shattering or will help me. And I should be nice and polite because they are only trying to help me feel better. But I am just impatient and short. I have even said to my playgroup, "Please don't ask me how I'm feeling. It depresses you to hear me say crappy, and it depresses me even more. You'll know when I'm feeling better...no need to be polite." Nice. Wouldn't you want to be my friend?

And the worst part? I'm scared to death about when this pregnancy is over. I STILL lose sleep over what the hell I'm going to do all day with two babies. I know, I know, people do it all the time. Heavens, people have multiples and other babies. But that isn't me. I'm LAZY. I don't do crafts or a particularly good job entertaining my kids. Jeff asked me this weekend if we would get Sesame Place passes again next summer. Uh...no? Pool...uh...no? How exactly will I keep an eye on an 18 month old and a newborn and a 4 year old by myself? What do I do with the newborn when I'm swimming with the 18 month old? When the newborn wakes up and needs to be fed, do I drag the 18 month old out and strap her to the stroller until I'm finished? And will the 4 year old be totally independent by then...cause he'll have to be. I'm convinced that we'll be doing NOTHING...but going crazy inside that is.

Damn it. This post is pathetic. Just the type I was trying to avoid. I'll go observe my children. They'll give me something else to post about. Ohhhh, I know. Andrew's first day of school is tomorrow. I'll post about that.

Mommy's job

I just finished reading this little girl's sweet response to the question, "What is Mommy's job?". It makes me smile and get a little teary. A very different response than what I got last week when Andrew was asked the same question.

Andrew, "Daddy is at work, right?"

Giselle, "Yes, he sure works hard at his job. Does Mommy have a job?"

Andrew, "Yes."

G, "What's my job, Andrew?"

A, "Feeding Nemo."


Yes, that's right. All the things I do during the day, and the first thing that pops into Andrew's head is that I feed the damn fish. (who is miraculously still alive, I might add).

Ah, what a legacy I leave behind.

Cheesy goodness and other randomness

Non-cheesy Lily on the move!

In a tube together at the mall

Andrew the Angelfish...not something we did this weekend.

What a beautiful weekend! I realize it was stinkin' hot in the Midwest...but it was in the upper 70s/low 80s with low humidity here. Lovely. We went to 2 different parks, including hiking to a covered bridge to picnic. Okay, "hiking" is a bit of an exaggeration. We walked a short distance on a gravel path through the woods to a covered bridge. We saw many horses. With riders, not wild horses. Shadow almost had a heart-attack. She had the nerve to bark at them. As if. Andrew peed in nature for the first time. When will I learn to ask before we leave if he has to go? When, people? It would be no big deal, except that Andrew doesn't know how to pee standing up yet. I don't know when it is appropriate for little boys to learn that, but quite frankly, I feel unqualified to teach this particular skill. I'll work on the pencil grip, and leave penis grip to Jeff. So peeing in the woods consisted of stripping Andrew down and squatting...girl style. His future football teammates would love a picture of this...but alas, the camera was far away with Lily and Jeff.

Monday night, while the rest of the country was having their last cookouts of the season, I requested to go out to eat at a particular restaurant. When I'm pregnant, I just need to go with cravings. Sometimes it bites me in the arse, but usually its a good call and by listening to my cravings I have less vomiting. So Jeff agreed. I'm not going to tell you what restaurant, because I'm embarrassed by it. No person in their right mind actually WANTS to go to this restaurant. Unless they are 7.

I digress. We pack the kiddos in the car. Andrew is DOG tired, but climbs in willingly. Lily protests a bit, but I quickly distract her with the nearest trash. That's right, trash. I've found some of the best toys are trash. And empty fruit snacks wrapper is crinkly and crunchy and delightful. A full fruit snack wrapper has the added benefit of shaking...pure rapture for my 11 month old. Yesterday's trash of choice was an unopened cheese and cracker package. You know the type...crackers on one side, processed "cheese" on the other. All wrapped up in a non-biodegradable plastic wrapper. Nothing but the best for my kids. Lily enjoys it because of the crinkly sounds it makes.

Andrew fell asleep on the way there. I never realized how much I depend on him to be my "Lily watchdog." I never even thought to look back and see what she was up to. I figure everything is fine because Andrew isn't tattle-taling. Fast forward to unloading the kids. Jeff gently unbuckles sleeping Andrew. I open Lily's side to find....a baby covered in cheese. From just under the eyes to the bottom of chin...covered. Fat little baby hands...covered. Chunky little thighs...covered. And through all this orange goop...and huge...beaming...toothy grin. If I could have brought my camera. She was the happiest I may have ever seen her. And perhaps the messiest.

So that was our weekend. Hope yours was as good.

Professional Little Sister

I don't know where Lily learned it, but she is getting pretty darn good at the whole little sister role. She wants whatever her brother has and will try to snatch it away from him. When he protests and won't let her have it, she gets this big fake pout on her face, starts to cry this exaggerated whine, and big crocodile tears roll out of her eyes. It is so ridiculous...I laugh every time she does it. She is already gaining the skills necessary to get Andrew in trouble for the rest of his life.

Also new in Lily's repertoire...

--Climbing. She is a pro at our stairs (although she doesn't know how to come back down). And yesterday, she got up on our fireplace. One of my favorite things about babies is how stinkin' pleased with themselves they get when they do something new. The look on her face on top of that fireplace was priceless.

--Eating our food. Lily will still eat baby food. As long as no one else is eating. Because if I am eating...she discards her food to the dog and wants what I have. Even if it is the same thing. It's just better off Mom's plate. In the last week, she has sampled hot pretzels, cinnamon sugar toast, KFC, Italian ice, sugar cookies. All very healthy fare. Don't worry, she's had lots of fruits and veggies too.

--Playing with poop. Okay, so this wasn't actually her fault. Her diaper exploded while napping, and she entertained herself with this new sticky goop until discovered by her dad. That's right, I was taking my mom to the airport. Score one for me. ;)

--Standing up. She is finally pulling herself up on stuff. And now all she wants to do is stand. She is just starting to cruise a bit...but we don't really have any good surfaces for her to practice this skill.

--Dance! How much do I love baby dancing???? Lily has a TOTALLY different style of dancing than Andrew did...which I find very interesting. Andrew was the dancing man, totally bouncing on his knees. Lily doesn't like to dance nearly as much, but when she does, she shakes her head and hands back and forth. No bouncing. Still soooooooo cute.

--Talk! Lily knows the words "book", "mama", "duk" (Look! always accompanied with pointing at something), "dis" (this), and "derg" (always said when pointing at Shadow, so I take it to mean dog). And she's in the stage where she babbles nonsense, but it kind of sounds like talking because she uses influction and pauses just like we do when speaking English. So cute! She also knows the sign for more and all done...but her preferred sign is pointing. "More" isn't specific enough for Lily...she just points at what she wants on the table. Arms out to get picked up. Even though she doesn't speak English, this girl knows how to get her point across. It's so fun to take her places...like at the aquarium, she just points at everything, saying over and over, "duk!" Look, mom! Look over here! Fun!

--Mama's girl. Andrew was a momma's girl from Day 1. He always preferred me, and was very vocal about it. Lily has been a much more independent baby. She loves everybody, and never had a problem with me leaving the room, etc. Until now. I think it's because we've had visitors for 2 weeks and I haven't been feeling well...so other people have been filling her needs and her mother has been absent a lot. She is now in full-on MOMMY MODE. Jeff will be holding her and she will squirm away, pointing at me, saying "mama...mamamama...mama". Then when I take her she contentedly puts her arm around me and pats me on the back (my personal favorite). It's kind of a pain, but secretly I love it.

So that's my Lily. I have been AWFUL about taking pictures, but I'll try and take some today and post them. She is just too cute. Seriously. Too cute.

Let's take a deep breath...

Okay, so have you all recovered from the shock yet? I haven't, but since I'm the one that will be wiping this little one's butt, I suppose I have more to get over. ;)

My favorite thing about announcing a "surprise" pregnancy that I'm really nervous about? All the, "It could be worse..." stories I get to hear. You know the type...I'm at playgroup, and the mom next to me says, "Don't be nervous. It could be worse. I have a cousin who had twins and then 13 months later had quintuplets and a goat. Can you imagine?" Or, "My sister knew a woman who had 5 kids, each just 8 months apart. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true!" Those types of stories. (coincidentally, these are the same people who potty trained their kids at 13 months...hmmm). Apparently, I've really got nothing to worry about. 18 months apart is a piece of cake compared to 99% of the rest of the population. Relieving, that what it is ;)

As you all know, pregnancy is not my favorite phase in life. If you are reading my blog, and suffer from infertility or other conditions that may make you sensitive to complaining pregnant people, you may wish to stop reading for the next few months. I am grateful to be able to get pregnant...not so grateful about being pregnant. At least the other 2 times I was preggers, I was soooooooo excited about the end result. It was a real light at the end of the tunnel. This time, the light at the end is tainted with fears of juggling two babies/how will I get Andrew into school with 2 little ones in tow/will Lily get lost in the middle/etc etc etc.

I am feeling quite sick this week...but not too bad yet. I've only thrown up twice, although I've thought I would many more times. I fear I'm anticipating the sickness a lot this time. I feel resigned to the fact that there will be much worshiping the porcelain God. Except this time, I'm going to have to keep an ear up for my 10 month old making a break for the steps (yes, it is her new favorite past time).

Um, what else? Oh, yes, my mom is here this week (THANK GOD!). Next week should be interesting. I wish she could stay for the next couple of months...but she has to, like, go to Russia or something. Selfish. How could she choose a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel in a fascinating country over doing my dishes and laundry while entertaining my restless children? Huh.

So thanks for the congrats...we'll get there. ;)

Against All Odds

FACT: I suck at keeping secrets.

FACT: I am a control freak. Which is why moving is so hard for me...it is not in my control. Which is why waiting almost a year to get pregnant was so hard for me...again out of my control.

FACT: All 3 times I've been pregnant, it took 8 months of charting my temperature, supplementing all sorts of things you don't want to hear about, planned/unspontaneous/unromantic sex. All 3 times. It was WORK to get pregnant. Fun work, but work non-the-less.

FACT: Each time I got pregnant, my body gave me distinct signs that I was ovulating. Very distinct. I was convinced that I just ovulate every 8 months or so.

FACT: Jeff and I were feeling pretty secure in our "sub-fertility" as one doctor put it. I have been putting off getting on hormonal birth control (cause it makes me sick) and depending on less effective barrier methods. But who cares about "less-effective"? We're sub-fertile. Even 90% effectiveness should be good enough for us.

FACT: This is probably WAY too much information about my sex life for most of my readers.

FACT: They have probably left the computer to go barf in the toilet.

FACT: Which may be where I end up later this morning.

FACT: When Jeff and I talked about the spacing of our children...even before we had any...I pretty much couldn't imagine having them any closer than 3 years apart. After having Andrew, I could imagine 2 1/2 year apart. Not a month closer.

FACT: I regard people with kids 2 years or less apart as crazy. Sorry to all my friends who have kids with that spacing. But I've always regarded you as crazy. Gluttons for punishment. Mostly just crazy.

FACT: Jeff and I have not yet decided if we want a 3rd child or not. We have been leaning towards 2 because I get so sick during pregnancy, we live far from family, we want to travel, we have 2 really great kids, so why jinx it, etc etc etc.

FACT: I have had NO signs of ovulation since weaning Lily.

FACT: I have missed 2 periods.

FACT: I have taken 3 positive pregnancy tests.

FACT: I had an ultrasound yesterday that showed a beating heart somewhere in my uterus.

FACT: This baby is due in April...Lily will be a mere 18 months old. Andrew will be 4 1/2.

FACT: Against all odds, I am pregnant.

FACT: Jeff and I have spent the last month in disbelief. If I had a nickel for every time we've said, "How did this happen...to US?"...I'd be able to put this child through college. Well, let's be realistic. I'd at least be able to buy a college book for this child.

FACT: I am TERRIFIED. And NERVOUS. And feeling quite INADEQUATE and definitely TOO LAZY to have babies so close together. 18 months apart. OH DEAR GOD.

FACT: I am somewhere deep down below all these anxious feelings, really really curious and excited to meet this baby who has broken all our patterns and come here despite all our expectations. This kid is meant to be.

Slacker

So I'm a slacker. You all knew that, so what's the big deal.

My sister and nephew are visiting this week, and I've been too tired to post. Sure, my sister has, but I'm L-A-Z-Y with a capital "L". You can read about all our adventures here. I'll let her do all the work.

Having Colin here has reminded me of Andrew as a 2 year old. And I would laugh in the superior tones of someone who has passed through that "wonderful" age...except I have a little one in the wings. I watch Colin playing FOREVER with a bucket of water and some cups outside. I remember Andrew doing that last summer. It was so easy to entertain him! Seriously. Cups and a bucket. Now we need a slide attached to a pool...and that is only exciting for 10 seconds. I watch Colin say/whine little conversations like this, "I want banana. Banana, Mama. BANANA. Nooooooo, don't want banana. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH. MILK! MILK! No Milk, WANT BANANA." And on and on. Ugh...the irrational behavior of this age. And the scratching! And the biting! How quickly you forget this stage when your child moves on from it! This has been a rude awakening that Lily is not going to pass from sweet baby to fun kid peacefully. Oh, yea, we have to do the 2's. Yippee.

It is so fun to watch all the cousins together. Colin is so sweet with Lily (provided she is not eyeing his toys). He kisses her and always wants to know where she is. And Andrew and Colin have been getting along amazingly well, considering Noah is coming to pick us up in an arc later this week and we've been in each other's faces the whole time waiting for rescue from the flood. (was that a run-on sentence, or what? English teachers, eat your heart out!).

And it is fun having Kate here. It's so great to watch her being a mom. We have different styles for our different kids (my style=mean/controlling her style=fun/easy-going). In my opinion, Kate's only parenting problem? She isn't confident enough in herself. She doesn't have any idea how well she is doing. She thinks I'm being "nice" when I say this...again with the lack of confidence. Proof is in how much Colin and my kids love her. Andrew is eating it up. He so enjoys his fun Aunt Kate, and even told her she is "funnier than Pepere". Whoa...high praise from Andrew.

So that's my update from PA. It has FINALLY stopped raining today, so hopefully we'll be able to take the boys outside and away from each others' space. More later...

"Comfortable" house

We have visitors coming next week! Yippee! Cousin Colin and Aunt Kate are flying in on Saturday and staying the week.

Having lived out of state for my entire married life, live-in visitors no longer stress me out. I am who I am. But there is a list of chores that I do so that people will come back and visit again. Here's an excerpt of my list:

1- Go to grocery. Probably should have more to offer guests than water and Cheerios. Perhaps water, Cheerios, juice, AND lunch meat.

2- Chisel new life forms off kitchen floor and table. I hate killing, but there is no need to infect my guest with some strange bacteria.

3- Change sheets in guest room. Dust in guest room. Vacuum in guest room. Basically, make guest room a haven away from the chaos, dirt, grime, and clutter that is the rest of my house.

The results of my lack-luster performance as a hostess are pretty good. I have many repeat visitors. I highly doubt it is due to my hostessing skills, and more to do with the cute little people that inhabit this disgusting abode. But whatever. They keep coming back.

I receive many comments from guests that make me wonder if I shouldn't really sharpen up my skills, though. They go something like this:

"Oh, I feel so welcome here. Sometimes it's hard to be a visitor because you feel like you're putting people out, but not here." Translation: I don't feel guilty for coming because you obviously did nothing different to prepare for my arrival.

"It's so nice to come to someones house and just relax." Translation: I truly go home relaxed/bored to tears, because you plan NOTHING for us to do.

"Visiting you is just like being at home." Translation: You make me serve myself, find my own towels, watch the children, figure out what to do to entertain myself, etc etc. You know, just like at home.

"I just love thistle flowers. They are so pretty." Translation: This poor dear has no gardening skills at all. Just focus on the only green thing alive in the yard. Grasping for polite comment.

I know all these comments are meant well. But maybe it's time to change things up a bit. Improve my hostessing skills. Maybe just a little bit at a time. Like, in preparation for this weekend, perhaps I'll move the mountain of discarded shoes out of the front hall. Or wash the mirrors in the bathroom. Or serve food in platters on the kitchen table.

This makes me tired just thinking about it. It's just my sister, right? Maybe when dignitaries come to visit...

Hey! It's dark in here!

We put our kid to bed early. Every night.

Yesterday, Andrew took a 3 hour nap! Not surprising, since he had a hearty dose of Benedryl after being stung by a bee (on his forehead, poor guy!). God bless Benedryl. If only it wasn't evil to dose your child every day...

Anyhoo, due to the 3 hour nap, I figured I should let him stay awake a bit later than usual. We went outside to look for fireflies...which there were none. I'm sure I'll be getting an e-mail from my hippy playgroup friend about how cell phones are killing fireflies. I jest...kind of. We looked for fireflies just last week...they were alive and well. We didn't find fireflies, but we found a HUGE scary looking spider crawling through the grass. I'm proud to say I didn't shriek and run inside to put on a haz-mat suit. I just calmly told Andrew to LOOK at the spider, not pick it up (all the while clenching my teeth to hold back my screams of terror). I don't like spiders. We also enjoyed watching the bats fly around our backyard. We have a TON of bats that fly around. They are Cool with a Capital "C".

Came inside. Played our new favorite game, Guess Who, for a while. At ten till 9, Andrew finally went to bed. And after Jeff tucked him in and closed the door, we hear this through his monitor:

"Hey! Hey, guys! It's dark in here! I can't see anything!"

Okay, it doesn't sound funny when I type it. Jeff and I were ROLLING. How sad that he is so used to going to bed when it is friggin' daytime still. He didn't know how to react to a darkness at bedtime. I hate to disrupt his patterns. I'll be sure to put him down at 7:30 again tonight. :)

The HEAT the HEAT

Why do I forget this heat every year? Why does everyone, for that matter? Every year, we are in our houses facing brown-outs and heat advisories, and every year people say the same thing..."I haven't seen heat like this in years. It used to be so pleasant in the summer. Damn global warming." Except that 8 years ago it ended, "Damn El Nino." I promise I have this conversation with EVERY checkout person at EVERY store I've been to for the last 10 summers.

How soon we forget the seasons. Every January, I sit in the house bored to tears and think, "If it were just summer, I could play with the kids outside all day." Fast forward to August when the mere THOUGHT of going outside makes armpit rings on my shirt. I don't even want to go to inside activities, like the mall, because when we return to our car it is like entering an active kiln. And we bake like pretty glazed pottery. All for the privilege of going to...the mall? I think not.

So I sit inside the house bored to tears and think, "If it was just winter, we could play in the snow and lick icicles and get cozy under blankets."

Ah! The joys of seasons! Even in California, where it was just pleasant all the time, I managed to complain. "Oye! Sunny AGAIN? I just can't go to the park one more day! I need an excuse to watch movies all day."

Tough to please, that's me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go stop ignoring my bored children.

8 years

Today marks eight years since I walked down an aisle and started a whole new family. Changed my name. Started sharing a bed (over-rated). Became a gypsy. Became an adult. Became a wife.

One of my friends here asked if we were going to go on a date for our anniversary. Uh, no. Who would watch the children? "Get a babysitter" I hear the collective chant of everyone I meet. And I respond, How exactly do you "get a babysitter". Right now, all I can think of to find one is to stalk teenage girls in my neighborhood and ask them. Seems creepy and weird and not the right way at all. So any tips on how to find a babysitter are welcome. Asking my friends is not an option. They all use relatives. "Oh, Matthew just goes to his Grandma's once a month. Then we have a few days to ourselves." Barf. When our family comes into town, they are more than willing to watch the kids. But we always feel torn. Here is our family that we only get to see every couple of months and traveled 9 hours to be here for a few days. We could go out and leave them in our boring house wondering which of the 5 remotes turns on the tv. Or we could stay at home and spend time with people we love and hardly ever get to spend time with.

Anyway, back to the anniversary. 8 years. Kind of like turning 17 or 26. Not a very exciting year to mark. Doesn't even have the ring of "7 year itch" to it. Which, by the way, as far as I know we had no 7 year itching. Although I am very itchy due to a bad case of poison ivy right now.

Okay, I'm feeling very stream-of-consciousness right now. 8 years. 5 dwellings. 3 states. 2 kids. Countless jobs (I'm just counting myself now). Never a single day that I have regretted it. Regretted that Jeff couldn't have gotten a job in Ohio, yes. But never that I wasn't with Jeff. I just don't get sick of him. Which seems like a terrible thing to say, but in my experience, too much time with anyone and you're ready to spend some time apart. Not Jeff. We can spend weeks of vacation together, where he doesn't go to work, and the only thing we feel at the end of his time off is disappointment that we can't win the lotto and have him stay home all the time. For 2 people who seemingly don't have much in common, we sure like to hang out together.

This isn't turning out nearly as mushy as I had hoped. I'm not real good with the PDA. I'll just say this...Jeff could be married to anyone happily. I honestly believe that, because he is so laid-back and considerate and kind and such an amazing care-taker. I don't know why he is with ME, because I think there are very FEW people that would be happy married to me (lazy, lazy, lazy, and thinks she is funny). But I snagged him, so that is that. I thank my lucky stars every day that I get him, and not somebody else. I hear so many people complaining about their husbands/marriages, and I just don't feel that. I make up lame-o stories about how detail oriented he is in order to fit in (I don't actually want the TV remote...just give me the GD cable remote that you KNOW I want, but insist on "teaching" me that I should call it the Cable remote).

I just love him. Clear and simple. The only family member that I'll ever get to handpick. You kind of get stuck with everyone else...this is your one chance to choose someone to get stuck with forever. And I'm so glad we picked each other.

Explosion

Lily is having an explosion. And I don't mean the kind that cause me to change her outfit 3 times a day...although she's having those as well. No, she's having the same 9 month explosion that Andrew did, where after turning 9 months, every day brings something new. It is so AMAZING to watch. Here are some of the things she has started to do...this WEEK:

Point (at objects, at pictures in books)
Pick up objects and say, "Hisssss"...which we are interpreting as "this" because once you tell her what it is, she is satisfied
Crawl up a step
Follow people around from room to room
Eat peaches and grapes (cut up in SMALL pieces, people). Throw pasta on the floor.
Squeal and crawl excitedly to Jeff when he comes home from work
Fake cry when Andrew stops her from doing something
Discover and play in dog bowl

Next up? Pulling herself up to standing. She is DESPERATE to accomplish this. The rate she's going, I bet it will happen this week sometime. Big girl.


And two Andrew stories:

Andrew call for help when he has pooped. Usually, he hollers out a charming, "Someone come wipe my butt!". So proud. So one evening, Andrew calls for his dad from the bathroom...although not in the "usual" way. Jeff walks in and asks, "Do you need a wipe?" Andrew replies, "No, Dad. Turn on the light. If I go poop, you will hear a splash. That's how you know."


We have an extra fridge in the basement where we keep lots of drinks...unfortunately mostly non-alcoholic (although after today, I am reconsidering stocking it with wine and vodka). This evening, I asked Andrew to go down and pick out waters for dinner. (I love having a 3 year old...they can DO stuff...and are excited by it still). Andrew calls up from the basement, "Do you want regular or spicy water?" Apparently, carbonated water is now "spicy" water...that's what the kids are saying these days. ;)