Belated Birthday Wishes

Way, way back, many weeks ago (June 10th) my cousin had a baby.

Not just any baby, mind you. No no, this baby is a GIRL baby! And if that isn't enough, this girl baby also happens to be (wait for it) FRENCH! That's right, this little girl baby was born in Paris, thus satisfying two of the three criteria for perfect babiness (the third being that the french girl baby would, of course, be mine.) 

Other things were going on, and I realized I somehow missed this milestone in this blog, and so I'm rectifying that situation right now. Welcome to the World Baby Chloe! Isn't it great to be loved by so many just for being born?

Seriously, though, look at her cute little face.  I can hardly stand it, and I'm just looking at a picture. Lord knows what would happen if I actually met the little bean.

Baby Bean

She isn't mine. But isn't she beautiful? Aren't her parents so lucky?

Of course, in this photo she's worn out from having three boys poke at her. Nick was amazed and in love and talked about her for days. Nate was indifferent. Andy flat out told me he didn't like her once we got home. Apparently she isn't half as entertaining as the cats she lives with.

Baby Baby

I dropped an entire carload of baby clothes off at Goodwill the other day.

I saved a number of items, the cutest, the ones I remember the boys wearing, the ones I might be able to pass along to someone else.

But most of them went. The cute tractor overalls. The purple footie pj's. The T-shirt with the lizard on it. Things I have had since Nick was a baby.

Driving away, I couldn't help but cry a little.

And then I looked back and saw Nick holding four stuffed animals he had rescued from the one box of stuffed animals I was giving away.

Dust In My Eye

As the weather has been changing, I've slowly been weeding the dresser drawers of clothing that is no longer seasonally appropriate and setting it aside. By "setting it aside" I really mean "Throwing it into the back hall in front of the closet."

See, we have a lot of storage space in this house. But I find that the need for storage space increases with the amount that you have. Meaning that, if you're the kind of person who likes to store stuff, you'll find more stuff to store.

Our back closet was full. It's a big closet. It's a walk-in. It's not insulated, but there is a lot of space in there. But over time it has accumulated a vast number of storage bins full of infant clothes and maternity wear and halloween costumes and car seats and diaper bags and jumpy swings and playpens and baby gates.... I couldn't even walk in.

I've been putting this project off for awhile.

But last night I had an argument with Andy who picked a pair of PJ's from the winter pile to wear, a fleece Winnie-The-Pooh zip-up."It's my favorite!" he said. I knew I had to get the long sleeves out of sight because my kids don't have enough sense to dress themselves.

But storing the Winter clothes they might wear next year meant doing something with the closet, which was spiraling out of control. As I looked at the stacks of storage bins, the clearly labeled "6 - 9 months onesie PJ's" showing through, I knew what I had to do. It breaks my heart, but I am pretty sure we won't be needing those little outfits again.

So I went through the storage bins and took out everything my kids are too big to wear. Back when the kids were little I separated everything because no one told me it didn't matter. I had dozens of smaller zip-loc bags with different types of outfits. These days it's much simpler. "3T Winter" is what you get, and it will probably have some 2T and some 4T and probably some T-shirts.

Anyway, I tried not to look at what I was getting rid of. Little outfits, little newborn T-shirts. The things my babies wore when they were soft and milky and would grab my nose. Little footie things they learned to roll over and crawl in, waving the little feet around in the air. I took it all out and replaced it with dirty T-shirts stained with ketchup and jeans with holes in the knees.

The baby stuff made it as far as the Pool Table, which is where a stack of toys is still sitting, waiting for Goodwill. Some day in the next couple of weeks I'll make a trip and bring it all. I'm sure someone will appreciate the fact that it's all clearly marked and organized.

And me? I'm fine. I just have a little dust in my eye from the storage closet.

Baby Boom

I don't usually post pictures of other people's kids. But today I am going to. I'm not using names, and I'm not even naming the parents.

I want to preface this post by saying that I am not pregnant. You hear that, internet? Me, not pregnant, not now! Steve, you may resume breathing.

In fact, this is the longest I've gone without being pregnant since... well, since I first became pregnant. I know this because when Nick was Andy's age, I was due to have a baby at almost any moment, and when Nate was Andy's age I was again weeding through my maternity clothes and trying to find something that didn't make me look (or feel) like the stay-puff marshmallow man.

Maybe this pause between pregnancies is why my baby hormones have suddenly gone into overdrive. For the first time since before I became a mom, I am looking at infants and coveting. Sure, I looked at babies and infants and loved them. I thought they were cute. I wised I could dress my kids in pink polka dots and cute shoes. But I didn't feel any need associated with them. I could think they were adorable smushes, and that was it.


These days the feeling is overwhelming. I look at an infant and think "I gotta have one!" Lucky for me I have an actual brain that steps in and says "YOU ARE SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT, MORON! YOU HAVE ONE MORE YEAR OF DIAPERS AND SIX MORE MONTHS OF WHOLE MILK! YOU ALMOST HAVE YOUR LIFE BACK!" Besides all that, the logistics of having a fourth child, not to mention the pregnancy, would most likely be like a hydrogen bomb exploding in our home. We simply could not deal with it. So a fourth child is out. And frankly, that makes me sad, because part of me knows I could do four.



These feelings are hitting me at a time when it seems everyone, and I mean EVERYONE is pregnant, or just had a baby. Take the liks on this site. Debs of It's my Life is halfway through her own pregnancy. And you can check out Dooce for updates about her new addition. No fewer than five of my facebook friends are currently expecting. And a few of them have newbies. And in my crazed state, I sometimes wonder if the universe is trying to tell me something.

This is when you post comments to tell me I'm wrong, and that three is enough.

Implications

Nick: What is the new baby going to look like?

Me: Well, he's going to be small, and he'll look like a baby.

Nick: But what is he going to LOOK like?

Me: I don't know. That's the exciting thing about babies. We don't know what they're going to look like until they're here!

Nick: He could be black.

Very pregnant pause (excuse pun)

Me: For your father's sake, let's hope he's not.

Not To Be Trusted

Earlier this week I had a doctor's appointment which ran long. They decided to do a Non-Stress Test as a precaution because I mentioned that the baby hadn't been moving around as much... which isn't surprising, when you consider the lack of room the baby has to move around IN.

The test took 30 minutes, but I had to go to a different office - the one where they keep the monitor - and they had to squeeze me in between two other people, so I ended up being gone much longer than I thought. Lucky for me, Lillian was taking care of the boys and was able to feed them lunch and (mostly) put them down for a nap.

Needless to say, the test was fine, or I would have mentioned something earlier.

But when I got home I was tired. I didn't feel like doing anything. So as soon as Lillian left I ran upstairs, put Nathan back to bed for real, and then climbed into bed myself.

But I didn't sleep for very long. Because the doorbell rang. I ignored it, thinking it would be UPS and they would just drop the package and go away, but then the doorbell rang again. So I rolled out of bed, very irritated, and stumbled down the stairs, Nicholas hot on my heels. And guess who it was?

It was Lillian. With groceries. For us.

I should have been overjoyed. I should have been so HAPPY to not have to go shopping the next day, to not have to worry about food for a bit, for someone looking out for me and making my life easier... but I wasn't. I was tired and grumpy. I knew I had to go shopping the next day anyway because we needed diapers. Instead of being thankful I resented her thinking that I couldn't manage to food shopping for my own family - because I had it all planned out. Despite what Steve would say about my empty cupboards. I had a PLAN. in my HEAD. And if no one else could figure it out, then that was simply not my problem.

So the next day I went food shopping as usual. Where Lillian had gotten us pork roasts, bread, and broccoli, I decided to buy only necessities, such as Mallomars and Lucky Charms, and the biggest box of hot chocolate I could find.

So that's it. I'm not allowed to go food shopping anymore because otherwise I will be feeding my family pasta in Hershey's syrup, and apparently this does not go well with frozen veggies. From now on I'll make a list and send someone else, probably Nick, at least until this baby decides to MOVE OUT.

For the record, at this point in my pregnancy with Nick I had a two week old child. At this point with Nathan I was nearing the end of labor. Which would make this THE MOST PREGNANT I HAD EVERY BEEN. And trust me, I'm done with it.

Can't Take It Anymore

After fifty three dreams where my water breaks, I have actually given up on it ever happening in real life. I just can't take the let down of waking up and finding out that I am still pregnant and still NOT in labor. If you think YOU are impatient, remember, I'm the one with the hi-jacked body here.

The funny thing is, it's not about the baby. It's more about just not being pregnant anymore.

We've also reached the point where we have things to do - parties, get togethers... and to tell you the truth I was so sure I'd have a baby by now I never really paid much attention. Suddenly I need to think about what to wear to Steve's office party, about getting chicken nuggets for Nick's School Holiday party... And it's not fair because there's NO WAY I can look or act like a normal person right now. I feel like I should just bring photocopied sheets of paper to hand out to anyone that looks as though they might speak to me. FAQ's - with my due date, the fact that it's a boy, that I already have two boys, and that I am feeling fine but will bite your head off if you come too close.

No More Little Miss Sunshine

OK, so yesterday was the cheery post and now I'm back to being my grumpy self. I hate everything. I just want to stay in bed until the baby gets BORN, for crying out loud. But instead I've just spent the last 20 minutes chasing the kids and yelling at them for taking ornaments OFF the tree... a fun pass time of theirs. As though I will not notice when I walk into the room that the tree is almost naked for the bottom three feet, and that there are ornaments all over the floor. The thing is, I GAVE the boys a basket or ornaments to play with, ones I didn't care about or that couldn't be broken. But apparently they are not as fun as the ones Steve has had since 1981, since they don't hold the same sentimental value. I guess it's really fun to watch a very pregnant woman in her bathrobe spill her coffee as she yells "GET AWAY FROM THE TREE!" forty seven times.

Mommy Crank

I'm just so tired of waiting. It's not like I'm not busy or don't have things to do, it's just that WHAT IS THE POINT? I really would rather be in labor than making dinner or cleaning the house or doing storytime at the library or wrapping gifts. I don't want to think about the office party or about Christmas Eve because I want to HAVE A BABY by then.

I mean, time is running out, people. I need this baby before Christmas. Otherwise my Holiday will not be bright. Instead, it will be fat and uncomfortable.

Holiday Mish-Mash

I sometimes forget how much the phone used to ring in our house growing up. We had to have two phone lines because so many people used the phone. (Remember, this was before the internet, email, and cell phones with texting became common, so the only way we teenagers HAD to communicate was via phone. HOW OLD FASHIONED!)

Here, days can go by without the phone ringing (really - days) and when it does there is a good chance it is a political party calling for support, or a business making a courtesy call. Other than that, only a handful of people call every once and awhile - the usual suspects.

But lately someone has been calling me every day. Just one person each day. It's almost as though the people I know contacted each other and assigned each other days, just so they could keep tabs on me and when this baby arrives. Even though I PROMISE I will let everyone know ASAP.

In the meantime, we're getting on with life. Yesterday we put up our Christmas tree. The decorations are out, the music is playing... I'm just about ready! Except for this baby.

Here is a picture of one of the kids' favorite decorations. It is a snowman who dances and sings "The Pepermint Twist." We have had to place it on top of the fridge to avoid peppermint twist overload.

And here is a picture of the tree we won at the Festival Of Trees! We were surprised we won anything - it's been a good year for us as far as raffled are concerned. Honestly, I don't think we meant to bid on this tree, but Nick and Nate had the raffle tickets and they tended to just stick them in whatever bin was closest. The hat on the top sings "Jingle Bells" and bends from side to side. We gave the tree to Lillian, who wasn't planning on getting a tree for her own place. Our tree is a real tree. Pictures will be posted later.

Call Me Crazy

Yesterday Nick drew this in one of my notebooks. "Look, Mommy!" he said, smiling. "I drew a picture of your belly!"Seriously, that was kind of cute and kind of made me want to bang my head against the wall. It was nothing compared to this very morning, however, when I went in to find that Nick had had an accident at night... again. He'd been really good until Thanksgiving, when he started peeing all over the place, day or night. He's gotten better since then, in that daytime accidents have dwindled, but night seems to have gotten worse, if anything. I try to limit drinks, encourage him to go twelve times before he falls asleep... And this morning, when he woke up soaked, he decided to remedy the situation by climbing into bed with his brother, which would have been fine except he didn't take off his soaking wet PJ's first, so I ended up having to change both sheets for the third time this week. THIRD TIME. Seriously, the laundry is now out of control, and the baby hasn't even been born yet.

Speaking of baby... I got a number of comments about how a number of people hadn't started their Holiday shopping, and I'm not late, blah blah blah... and that's well and good. If you want to shop the malls o Christmas Eve, go for it. My goal is to avoid the malls altogether. But the truth is, I CAN'T do that. I have kids. I can hardly look around Pottery Barn for three minutes without boys screaming and trying to pull delicate stuff off of shelves. And remember, any day now I will also have a NEWBORN. And once that happens I will basically be housebound, because there is no way I am taking a newborn with me shopping unless it is a matter of life or death.

ALSO, most of the people I shop for live NOT HERE. Meaning I must allow time to mail the gifts or bribe someone to come and get them. (I'll give you a baby! Hey, FREE BABY!)

Christmas more reliable than Baby

You would be surprised at how many strangers, once they ask when the baby is due and I TELL THEM, out of some sense of duty to be nice to people, actually comment "Oh! So you could have a CHRISTMAS BABY!" As though having a baby born on Christmas is what everyone is really shooting for. As though it is something GOOD. Lucky me! I should only hope we can hold out that long!

SHUT UP PEOPLE! No one wants a birthday on Christmas, not unless you are a doll named "Chrissy!" or a too precious little girl or some sort of kid who hates getting presents because you KNOW you are going to get gypped! Also, the baby is due on the 16th. The 25th would make it 9 days overdue. Which is not exciting AT ALL! Also, what makes them think I want to spend MY Christmas away from my family? In the hospital? In labor? I hate all those people!

Anyway - ahem - sorry for the outburst... but no, the countdown for the baby to arrive has actually been forgotten and set aside, since it has no bearing on reality. Sadly, the baby will not arrive on its due date, but maybe before, maybe after, and I'm sick of waiting around. The new countdown is for CHRISTMAS!

Let's face it, Christmas will be on the 25th, no matter what. I can depend on that. I might still be pregnant. I might be in the hospital, I might have a ten day old baby. But no matter what, it will be Christmas, and Santa will come with gifts.

When Planning Fails

In the last month of your pregnancy, the doctors like to see you every week. That means that every single week I need to make my way to the office, step on a scale, hand over a cup of pee, get my blood pressure taken, my belly measured, listen to a heartbeat, and then I get sent on my way with the encouraging words that "Everything is fine! We're just waiting, now!"

I spend more time getting to the office than I do in the actual office.

But I look forward to going, because each time I have an idea that the doctor will take one look at me and exclaim "My Goodness! This woman in in labor and doesn't even know it! Get her to the Hospital at once! This baby could come any moment!"

Since scheduling appointments can be tricky, I have scheduled the last month of appointments in advance, just to make sure I can get times I need. My next appointment is scheduled for tomorrow morning, at 8:10am. not a great time for me, but it was the best they had. I had planned on taking the boys to my appointment, then shuttling Nick to school, then driving Nate to Storytime at the Library.

But now it is supposed to snow. Tonight. And suddenly my plans are all crazy. Will I make it to the doctor's office at all? School may be called off, and then there will be no Storytime either.

I am confident that, if it snows enough to prevent me from going to my doctor's appointment, I will immediately go into labor.

Or maybe not.

Funny ODD - Not Funny Ha Ha

You spend about 3/4 of a pregnancy doing everything you can to keep the baby safe and inside you. The remaining 1/4 is the few weeks before you know you're pregnant, and then the last three weeks, where you want to rip the baby out of you with the nearest baby-ripping-out object you can find.

The baby meter o'reader says I have fifteen days until my due date.

And I thought that, this time around, the holidays would be a distraction.

HA!

And THIS is Why...

What is it about pregnant women that cause complete strangers to ask personal questions?

Seriously, if one more person asks me when I'm due, tells me that I have my hands full, or asks what I'm having, I really think I'll bash them over the head with my diaper bag. After all, IT IS NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS! And as for having my hands full... REALLY? No Kidding. I HADN'T NOTICED! Now help me stuff my kids back in my shopping cart and stop wasting my time asking stupid questions.

Oh, and this really big Tummy? It may be sticking out in your face, and I didn't mean to bump you with it, but I don't know you and it is PART OF MY BODY! At least ask me before you start pressing your hands on me like some Mystic Healer. Unless you ARE actually a Mystic Healer and can induce labor, in which case, please come to my house ASAP.

Watch this video. Notice Nathan helping Nick out from behind the camera. It may seem kind of long, but there is a follow up I shall post tomorrow which I think makes it all worthwhile.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa

It feels a bit early to be writing to you, just days after Thanksgiving, but Christmas seems to be everywhere already, and when we caught sight of you yesterday at the Festival Of Trees you already seemed very busy. By the way, I'm sorry we only waved and didn't stop by to say hello, but you didn't look like you had a lot of down time, and Nicholas was a little nervous about the whole idea... you know how kids are.

Anyway, this letter might seem a bit unorthodox. Most people, I assume, write letters telling you what they WANT, but this letter... well, I guess I'm telling you what NOT to bring us. I don't mean to come across as ungrateful. You have been SO generous in the past, and all of the toys and gifts you have brought us are appreciated and loved. It's just that, at this point, we have so very much, especially when it comes to certain items.

My first request is that you PLEASE bring us NO STUFFED ANIMALS! We have so many. After all, we have only two (soon three) little boys, and the stuffed animals already number in the hundreds. It really is too much for us, and quite honestly I am running out of places to keep them.

My second request has to do with clothing. PLEASE DO NOT GIVE THE NEW BABY CLOTHING! Or at least think about it before going through with it. I know, I know, I love buying the little clothes, too. But we have so much clothing left over from our first two boys that we really do not need any more infant clothes. Add to that the fact that babies grow faster than weeds and you end up with me changing the baby into five outfits a day just to be able to say he's worn everything. Some people might think I was kidding, but you, Santa, I know you understand.

My other boys, however, LOVE clothes. (Nick is wearing 4T, and Nathan is comfortable in 2T, and both are a bit roomy in those. As for shoes, Nick would be size 10 and Nate... well, who knows, but I've been going with size 7 these days.)

As for hints... well, Nicholas keeps asking for a "game," by which I think he means a handheld video game - but we aren't too thrilled with that idea for such a small boy. He also loves musical instruments and has frequently pointed out guitars with "buttons" that play music, usually with the Backyardigans or the Wiggles on them... Nathan cried yesterday when we made him leave behind some Thomas the Tank Engine items which were just for show. He loves trains. As for me and Steve... well, if I knew what Steve wanted I would have already purchased it. And I simply would like everyone to have a very Merry Christmas.

Thanks so much. We'll be seeing you soon!

Kathleen

25 Days Until The Big Day

Not Christmas, Fools! The due date! Check out the scary baby meter'o reader.

Happy Thanksgiving. Deeps Breaths. Namaste.

Chalk This One Up To Hormones

Yesterday my hip started hurting... or my bum. Just the right hip / bum. And not all the time. Just occasionally as I am walking or picking things up or stuff. And not a lasting pain, but one of those nice, shooting, gone-in-a-moment but doubles-you-over kind of pain.

It doesn't stop when I sit, either. Or when I try to sleep at night. Instead, it waits until I relax and forget, and then try to turn a little in any direction, or get up to pee.

So far this little distraction has interfered with tasks such as "Picking Up Torn Bits of Paper From the Floor," "Changing Nate's Diaper," and "Finding Nick's Sock's." Today I get to see how it will interfere - if at all - with tasks such as "Making Six Pie Crusts" and "Shopping for Thanksgiving Dinner for 19."

By the way, all you people who are apparently showing up but haven't yet told me WHEN, well at this point getting the meal on the table is all I can think of, so you're just going to have to hope someone is here to let you in, and you'll have to find your own beds and make them yourselves, because quite honestly I can't manage the hopping around from one side of the bed to the other, have done all I can, and I'm tired thinking about it.

too many things to do

No post today.

Well, not a real one with a picture or a story.

Just basically this "Gone Fishing" note letting you all know that I am very busy today. The dogs must get to the groomer. The Nick must get to the school. The sheets on multiple beds must be changed. And so on.

But I had to say something to let you know the BABY HAS NOT YET ARRIVED! Or anything like that. It's just me, trying to perform intense balletic feats with my center of gravity in my abdomen, while being kicked in the bladder from the inside.